But though it was easy enough to dismiss Helen and her suggestions in this cavalier fashion, he could not dismiss a feeling of irritation at her implied disapproval. The faintest hint of it always roused resentment in him and a desire to make that disapproval utterly unreasonable. So, as he breasted the hills, intending to walk over their summits, and when time was up drop down on Dinas and the motor, his thoughts were busy with the possibility of fitting in No. 36 in the Queen's ward with his plans for the future. There was always the hidden hundred pounds--if it still existed! He had a great mind to see if it did, since he was so close to its hiding-place. Would he have time? He looked at his watch, and then gave a glance seaward. The estuary, now at flood tide, lay silver in the winter sunshine, and not more than halfway across it he could discern a slowly-moving black speck. The boat, of course. If that were so, he would have ample time, and for a smoke also. He sat down, and watched the small black speck, wondering what had delayed those three. It seemed to be going faster now; but even so, there was time and to spare. An hour and a half at least ere they could possibly crest those further hills and drop down into the valley. And then--then, by the computation of experience, it would be at least an hour ere Ned Blackborough would tear himself away! Peter Ramsay had rather a contempt for love. It was to him a physiological disease, the violence of which argued a lack of self-control. And the beautiful girl who had never seen a sixpence, though very charming, appeared to him to be a most unsuitable wife for any man. For his idea of a wife was distinctly some one who could comfort and coddle, and--without open words--prevent one from making an ass of oneself. Yes! he had made an ass of himself; but, concerning No. 36, there was no reason why he should not take his own way. After all, there was nothing but life. The metaphysicians would put thought first, but it was "_Ergo sum, cogito_," not the converse--at any rate to common-sense. Nothing was susceptible to absolute proof except life and death, and they probably were mere conditions of matter. As he looked out, the light waves from the faintly declining sun were turning the invisible vapour about the higher hills into a filmy mist-veil which seemed to hang between him and the distant view. His eye seemed to detect in it a ceaseless shimmer, an almost imperceptible vibration.