They were standing together at her door, but as yet Hugh had not rung the bell. She did not wait for him to do so, but stretched her own hand, as she had stretched it to turn on the light that brought desolation in the car a minute ago, and simultaneously turned to speak to Amos, who remained at attention by the limousine door. “What are you waiting for, Amos? That is all for to-night.” But Amos was not the complete automaton he might appear. He said, “I thought I’d be taking Mr. Weyman back.” “He prefers to walk. Good night, Amos.” The hall door was opening. Amos muttered half audibly, but intending Joan to hear, “It’s nothing at all to drive Mr. Weyman back to Wild Acres. He’s not—dressed for walking!” Joan was very short with his incivility. “Do as I say,” she commanded crisply. “And put the car up.” Then she gave her hand to Hugh. “Good night, Hugh,” she murmured. “Do run over and see me often, now I’m back, won’t you? We’ve lots to get caught up with. No end of things.” She passed the butler, who continued to hold the door open until Hugh had nodded to him absently and turned away into the night. Now, after his solitary mid-morning breakfast, Hugh came leisurely out into the hall, lighting a cigarette. The house had been so quiet ever since his rising that he wondered where every one was. But here was Anne, in the hall, under his nose, sitting still as a mouse in the very chair Joan had glorified last night, while allowing her overshoes to be buckled. Hugh seemed to remember that when he had gone in to breakfast half an hour ago Anne had been there. She was smoking cigarettes, and had, apparently, been some time at it, for the silver letter tray on the table near was cluttered to overflowing with twisty pale stubs. “Hello. Still here! What’s up?—I’m looking for Ariel. It looks as if you were looking for trouble.” In fact it did. There was an ominous ring about Anne’s quiet, now that he was within its radius. Anne inclined her head just slightly toward the library door, which was shut. “Your Ariel’s in there,” she informed Hugh, in a furious low voice. “But it would be too unkind to disturb her. She’s busy with her latest conquest. I should have thought Glenn would have been enough to begin with!” Hugh made a movement toward the library door, but Anne intercepted him, jumping up and grabbing his arm. “Please _don’t_, Hugh. It’s twenty-five minutes of eleven. The boys’ train goes at five past, if they’re going to be at Professor Barker’s party this afternoon. I’m simply dying to see whether Ariel’s charms will make Prescott lose that train. I know he’s crazy about the party because Masefield’s going to be there. Glenn’s crazy about it too. He’ll expect Prescott to be packed and all ready now. And he isn’t. And he won’t be—not if he and Ariel keep it up much longer. Give the girl a chance! Have a heart—”