"Oh, yes, that is all very well. And in the meantime I shall be getting old--that is to say, I shall be losing time--and she will be sure to be run after by other men the moment my back is turned." "It will be better to lose a little time than to worry her now," said Mrs. Reade. "If you draw off from her a little, she will miss you, and then probably she will want you, and provided you left her assured of your faithfulness, and didn't go flirting with Miss Hale and people, it would be just the kind of delicate and chivalrous consideration for her that she would appreciate. Yes, I know Rachel; it would touch her heart deeply." "But some other fellow might get hold of her--finding she was free, you know." "I think," said Mrs. Reade, smiling slightly, "that we may safely leave my mother to look after that." Upon consideration Mr. Kingston thought so too. He began to see glimmerings of wisdom and reason in this proposed course. "But your mother will have to be looked after herself," he said, breaking a little pause abruptly. "If _I_ am not to worry Rachel, nobody else shall." "Of course. I will look after my mother." "And suppose," he continued presently, deep in troubled thoughts, "suppose she never renews the engagement after all?" "Oh, well--suppose the world comes to an end to-morrow--we can't help it!" "Do you think she will?" "I do think she will--honestly, I do--if you are patient and gentle, and do as I tell you. She will be dull and lonely; she will miss you about her, and not only you, but many pleasant things that are associated with you; she will bethink herself that she has treated you badly--as indeed she has--and she is so tender-hearted that it will fret her. And if she sees you occasionally, not in season and out of season, but now and then, at opportune times, and you do her little voluntary services in a delicate and unobtrusive way--then some of these days, seeing you still, she will suddenly think that she loves you, and--well, then it will be all right, you know." "Oh, I hope so!" he broke out, with a deep, impatient sigh--though it was not a great deal to hope for when it came to be reckoned up. "But how long will she be reaching that point?" "It depends." "And we were to have been married in a couple of months--three at the most. Upon my honour, it _is_ too bad!"