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of his new status as Laird of Ardlamond than she had been when he had first told her of his father’s death.
    The feeling that they were here under false pretences had grown and strengthened during the interval, blotting out the sense of homecoming which had wa rm ed her heart as the big American car had covered the miles between Oban and Dromore.
    During the journey she had been able to discount her first unfortunate impression of Hew Kintyre and the fact that he had been so obviously unwilling to receive them at Ardlamond, but now he was Ardlamond and they were the intruders, the unwanted strangers within the gates.
    Thrusting her hands into the pockets of her blue dress, she tried to stifle a keen sense of disappointment as she reached the foot of the stairs.
    Hesitating on the bottom step and not quite sure which way to turn, she became aware of a man’s tall figure in the shadows beside one of the deep window embrasures. He was standing quite still, looking out towards the hills on that side of the house, to the glen that ran deeply into them and was now grey in the gloaming hour, and his thoughts had pencilled two deep grooves between his thick red brows.
    “I want to say how sorry I am that all this had to happen—Tony and I coming here when you must want to be alone,” she said into the silence. “It’s no use offering to go tonight. It would only put you to more trouble, but we will leave in the morning.”
    Hew turned to face her, impatience predominating in his expression as their eyes met .
    “There’s no need for you to think of leaving,” he said curtly. “It would be considered odd, to say the least of it, by the people who will be attending my father’s funeral. Most of them are already aware that he was made Tony’s guardian and that he was looking forward to your arrival.”
    “But you?” she questioned, looking back into the unfathomable eyes which were neither grey nor green. “You can’t possibly want us to stay.”
    “On the contrary,” he answered, moving away from the window, “you may be a great deal of use to me. I have to return to Whitefarland tomorrow morning on a matter of business and—people will be arriving. We have a great many relatives and my father made friendships up and down the country during his lifetime. All these people will want to come and pay their last respects to him, and most of them know about your visit. They will expect to find you here and, apart from Mrs. Malcolm, there is no other woman in the house. I shall be—obliged if you will help me out in this.”
    The words were coldly formal, but at least he had made the request. He stood hesitating for a moment, still looking at her directly while he seemed to reject and then accept some suggestion which had been turning over in his mind.
    “If your brother is going to find it depressing being in the house he can come with me to Whitefarland,” he added briefly.
    “I’m sure Tony would like that,” Elizabeth agreed. “I don’t think he’s ever seen over a farm, and certainly not a sheep farm.”
    He looked at her curiously, and she wondered if she had divulged too intimate a knowledge about his home among the hills .
    “I wish this hadn’t happened,” she told him impulsively. “I was looking forward so much to meeting Sir Ronald—getting to know him.”
    “Yes,” he said almost indifferently. “He remembered you as a child.”
    Did he know about the old love affair between their parents, Elizabeth wondered, and was he completely indifferent to it?
    It would seem so, and perhaps he even resented it on his mother’s behalf.
    “If you would give me some idea about whom I am to expect tomorrow,” she suggested nervously, “I’ll do all I can to help.”
    “I should imagine you will be on the phone most of the morning,” he told her. “All sorts of people will ring up to offer their sympathy as soon as the news gets around. I’m not very good at responding to that sort of thing, I’m