There is a letter come from Clarissa; perhaps it is that which edges my tongue and temper--the poor child is so sad and lonely, so wretchedly unhappy--and Sir John riding the West with all his hellish crew! And she has no news of him--and asks it of me----" She descended a step and stood on the stair beside me, looking up at me very sweetly, and resting her hand lightly on my shoulder--a caress so frank and unconcealed that it meant no more then its innocent significance implied.

But at that moment, by chance, I encountered Lois's eyes fixed on me in cold surprise.

And, being a fool, and already unnerved, I turned red as a pippin, as though I were guilty, and looked elsewhere till the heat cooled from my cheeks.
"You dear boy," said Lana gently.

"If there were more men like you and fewer like--Sir John, there'd be no Clarissas in the world." She hesitated, then smiled audaciously.

"Perhaps no Lanas either....