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 "If I have done anything to displease you, Miss Lynde," he announced, with dignity, "I am very sorry. I assure you I had no intention of—of doing it."

"You haven't, Mr. Fallon." The tone was frightfully polite. Miles's frown deepened.

"I gathered from your manner that I had."

"Not at all."

"Oh!"

The birds trilled and fluttered amidst the trees. The tireless bees sang their sleepy tune. Bistre, hunting squirrels down near the road, barked impatiently. But in spite of these sounds, the silence seemed oppressive. Miles's frown grew into a scowl. He arose.

"I fear my presence annoys you, Miss Lynde," he said, coldly. There