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“Not that I know of.”

“And writes no letters nor receives any?” (He was speaking from his own observation.)

“Not that I know of. But how should I know? or what does it matter?”

“In fact, he is a friendless adventurer, whom you don’t know a thing about beyond what you have told me?”

Alice suddenly recoiled, and a dangerous light gleamed in her eyes.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand you. Why all these questions?”

Dick regarded her unflinchingly. He knew what an honest answer would cost him, yet he was resolved to speak out.

“Because,” said he, impressively and slowly, “because I don’t believe Mr. Miles is what he makes himself out to be.”

He knew that he had made some advance in her esteem, he knew that these words would lose him all that he had gained, and he was right. A flash of contempt lit up the girl’s eyes and pierced to his soul. “Noble rival!” said she; and without another word swept haughtily past him from the garden where they had been walking into the house.