“The owner?  Lord Saltash, do you mean?” He scoffed at the idea.  “Do you really imagine he would come within a hundred leagues of the place on such a day as this.  No, he is probably many salt miles away in that ocean-going yacht of his.  Lucky dog!”

“Oh, do you envy him?” she said.

He gave her a shrewd glance.  “Not in the least.  He is welcome to his yacht—­and his Lady Jo—­and all that is his.”

“Dick!” She made a swift gesture of repudiation.  “Please don’t repeat that—­scandal—­again!”

He raised his brows with a faintly ironical smile.  “Are you still giving her the benefit of the doubt?” he said.  “I imagine no one else does.”

The colour went out of her face.  She stood quite motionless, looking not at him but at a whirl of dancing gnats on the gold-flecked water beyond him.

“She went to Paris,” she said, in the tone of one asserting a fact that no one could dispute.

“So did he,” said Green.  “The yacht went round to Bordeaux to pick him up afterwards.  I understand that he was not alone.”

She turned on him in sudden anger.  “Why do you repeat this horrible gossip?  Where do you hear it?”

He held out his hand to her.  “Juliet, I repeat it, because I want you to know—­you have got to know—­that she is unworthy of your friendship, and—­you shall never touch pitch with my consent.  I have heard it from various sources,—­from Ashcott, from the agent here, Bishop, and others.  My dear, you have always known her for a heartless flirt.  You broke with her because she jilted the man she was about to marry.  Now that she has gone to another man, surely you have done with her!”

He spoke without anger, but with a force and authority that carried far more weight.  Juliet’s indignation passed.  But she did not touch the outstretched hand, and in a moment he bent and took hers.

“Now I’ve made you furious,” he said.

She looked at him somewhat piteously, assaying a smile with the lips that trembled.  “No, I am not furious.  Only—­when you talk like that you make me—­rather uneasy.  You see, Lady Jo and I have always been—­birds of a feather.”

“Don’t,” he said, and suddenly gripped her hand so that she gasped with pain.  “Oh, did I hurt you, sweetheart?  Forgive me.  But I can’t have you talk like that—­couple yourself with that woman whose main amusement for years has been to break as many hearts as she could capture.  Forget her, darling!  Promise me you will!  Come!  We’re not going to let her spoil this perfect day.”

He was drawing her to him, but she sought to resist him, and even when his arms were close about her she did not wholly yield.  He held her to him, but he did not press for a full surrender.

And—­perhaps because of his forbearance—­she presently lifted her face to his and clung to him with all her quivering strength.  “Just for to-day, Dick!” she whispered tremulously.  “Just for to-day!”