For the ringing crack of a gun shot could have spoken no louder to her than the glittering silence of the suspended barrels; nor any promise of his voice sound as the startled stillness sounded now about her.

For he had made something a trifle more than mere amends for his rudeness.

He was overdoing everything--a little.
He stood on the thicket's edge, absently unloading the weapon, scarcely understanding what he had done and what he had not done.
A moment later a far hail sounded across the uplands, and against the sky figures moved distantly.
"Alderdene and Marion Page," said Siward.

"I believe we lunch yonder, do we not, Miles ?" They climbed the hill in silence, arriving after a few minutes to find others already at luncheon--the Page boys, eager, enthusiastic, recounting adventure by flood and field; Rena Bonnesdel tired and frankly bored and decorated with more than her share of mud; Eileen Shannon, very pretty, very effective, having done more execution with her eyes than with the dainty fowling-piece beside her.
Marion Page nodded to Sylvia and Siward with a crisp, business-like question or two, then went over to inspect their bag, nodding approbation as Miles laid the game on the grass.
"Eight full brace," she commented.

"We have five, and an odd cock-pheasant--from Black Fells, I suppose.