Rosemary gleefully permitted me to sip honey from that warm little spot on her neck, and I forgot many odious things. As I held her in my arms I experienced a vivid longing to have a child of my own, just like Rosemary. Our luncheon was not as gay nor as unconventional as others that had preceded it. The Countess vainly tried to make it as sprightly as its predecessors, but gave over in despair in the face of my taciturnity. Her spirits drooped. She became strangely uneasy and, I thought, preoccupied. "What is on your mind, Countess?" I asked rather gruffly, after a painful silence of some duration. She regarded me fixedly for a moment. She seemed to be searching my thoughts. "You," she said very succinctly. "Why are you so quiet, so funereal?" I observed a faint tinge of red in her cheeks and an ominous steadiness in her gaze. Was there anger also? I apologised for my manners, and assured her that my work was responsible. But her moodiness increased. At last, apparently at the end of her resources, she announced that she was tired: that after we had had a cigarette she would ask to be excused, as she wanted to lie down. Would I come to see her the next day? "But don't think of coming, Mr. Smart," she declared, "if you feel you cannot spare the time away from your work." I began to feel heartily ashamed of my boorishness. After all, why should I expend my unpleasant humour on her? "My dear Countess," I exclaimed, displaying a livelier interest than at any time before, "I shall be delighted to come. Permit me to add that my work may go hang." Her face brightened. "But men must work," she objected. "Not when women are willing to play," I said. "Splendid!" she cried. "You are reviving. I feel better. If you are going to be nice, I'll let you stay." "Thanks. I'll do my best." She seemed to be weighing something in her mind. Her chin was in her hands, her elbows resting on the edge of the table. She was regarding me with speculative eyes. "If you don't mind what the servants are saying about us, Mr. Smart, I am quite sure I do not." I caught my breath. "Oh, I understand everything," she cried mischievously, before I could stammer anything in reply. "They are building a delightful romance around us. And why not? Why begrudge them the pleasure? No harm can come of it, you see." "Certainly no harm," I floundered. "The gossip is confined to the castle. It will not go any farther. We can afford to laugh in our sleeves, can't we?" "Ha, ha!" I laughed in a strained effort, but not into my sleeve. "I rejoice to hear you say that you don't mind. No more do I. It's rather jolly." "Fancy any one thinking we could possibly fall in love with each other," she scoffed. Her eyes were very bright. There was a suggestion of cold water in that remark. "Yes, just fancy," I agreed. "Absurd!" "But, of course, as you say, if they can get any pleasure out of it, why should we object? It's a difficult matter keeping a cook any way."