Lavender, in his excitement and gratitude, kept filling up his friend’s glass the moment the least quantity had been taken out of it; the wonder was he did not fill all the glasses on that side of the table, and beseech Ingram to have two or three dinners all at once. “Oh, you needn’t give me any credit about it,” Ingram said. “I stumbled against her by accident: at least, I did not find her out myself.” “Did she send for you?” “No. But look here, Lavender, this sort of cross-examination will lead to but one thing; and you say yourself you won’t try to find out where she is.” “Not from you, any way. But how can I help wanting to know where she is? And my aunt was saying just now that very likely she had gone right away to the other end of London--to Peckham or some such place.” “You have seen Mrs. Lavender, then?” “I have just come from there. The old heathen thinks the whole affair rather a good joke; but perhaps that was only her way of showing her temper, for she was in a bit of rage, to be sure. And so Sheila sent me that message?” “Yes.” “Does she want money? Would you take her some money from me?” he said eagerly. Any bond of union between him and Sheila would be of some value. “I don’t think she needs money; and in any case I know she wouldn’t take it from you.” “Well, now, Ingram, you have seen her and talked with her, what do you think she intends to do? What do you think she would have me do?” “These are very dangerous questions for me to answer,” Ingram said. “I don’t see how you can expect me to assume the responsibility.” “I don’t ask you to do that at all. But I never found your advice to fail. And if you give me any hint as to what I should do, I will do it upon my own responsibility.” “Then I won’t. But this I will do; I will tell you as nearly as ever I can what she said, and you can judge for yourself.” Very cautiously, indeed, did Ingram set out on this perilous undertaking. It was no easy matter so to shut out all references to Sheila’s surroundings that no hint should be given to this anxious listener as to her whereabouts. But Ingram got through it successfully; and when he had finished Lavender sat some time in silence, merely toying with his knife, for, indeed, he had eaten nothing. “If it is her wish,” he said slowly, “that I should not go to see her, I will try to do so. But I should like to know where she is. You say she is comfortable, and she has Mairi for a companion; and that is something. In the meantime I suppose I must wait.” “I don’t see, myself, how waiting is likely to do much good,” said Ingram. “That won’t alter your relations much.” “It may alter her determination. A woman is sure to soften into charity and forgiveness; she can’t help it.”