CHAPTER XVII.

But she liked Lindfield; that made her task so much harder. It was shameful to treat a man like this, and yet--and yet there was still the memory of that dreadful gilded house in Paris and the dying voice of Diana. So once more, and not for the last time, she settled down to the task that was so odious--odious because she liked him. "We shall quarrel, then, I am afraid," she said, "because I want to talk too. We both want to talk--I to you, you to me." He leant over her a moment, since the punt-pole had to be groun…