"You alone in a car driving strange men about! Do you think your mother would have allowed it! I've seen three women chauffeurs. Thank goodness, they're of a different sort and make to you! And if you get hung up, with a burst tyre or a puncture or get run into by one of these char-à-bancs, where are you then? It's preposterous, absurd, not to be thought of! If you have a craze for motoring, you must come to us, and I'll tour you round for a bit. We'll take a run over the border into Scotland. You want to see everything and you must see that. When will you come? My people will be in town for the next fortnight, but they'll be home the end of the month. Can you come to us the first week in June?" "I think not," said Gentian. "I am going to move into my new house with Waddy that week. I am very much occupied just now. In England we do not live the life of Italy. There the sun and the flowers help to keep you lazy. It is just a life of pleasure, of taking your ease. Here every one who is not rich works, do they not, Mrs. Wharnecliffe? Girls as well as men. We have to earn our daily bread. My car and my music and my house will take up all my time. My cousin has placed this house at my disposal, he lives near—" "But do you mean that you will not pay us a visit?" Jim Paget's face showed great discomposure. "Your cousin, you say—you did not know he existed a few months ago. What has he to say to it? We are old friends—we are more than old friends—we—" He glanced at Mrs. Wharnecliffe impatiently, wishing her out of the room, but she did not take the hint. Gentian was perfectly serene and composed. "I am very glad to see you, Jim. We are old friends, as you say, and perhaps some time later in the summer I may like to come and see your mother. But not just now. Have you a rock garden in your home? Mrs. Wharnecliffe has a beautiful one; would you like to come and see it?" Jim Paget got up with a sigh of relief, and Wharnecliffe wisely let the two young people wander out into the garden by themselves. They were there a long time. Sitting in her drawing-room by the open window, Mrs. Wharnecliffe was at last aware by the sound of their voices that they were returning to the house. Jim's voice was raised in indignant protest. "Are you going to keep me hanging about till you see some one you may like better?" "No, dear Jim. I will not do that, take your dismissal at once. I mean it. I will not be bullied. Every one thinks he can browbeat and manage a girl that is alone. And I have a soul and mind as well as my body, and it is my soul you do not understand. It will not lie down to be trampled upon. If I married you, it would not be my own at all; you would have it in your hands, refusing to let it breathe and slowly squeezing it to death." "Oh, Gentian, don't be so ridiculous!" Jim's face was hot, and his tone not too gentle.