“I’ve been just a distracted fool, with my head swimming with meetings and embraces and—frills.” He produced some long impending generalizations. “Not a man’s work, this Lover business. Dancing about in a world of petticoats and powder puffs and attentions and jealousies. Rotten game. Played off against some other man.... “I’ll be hanged if I am.... “Have to put women in their places.... “Make a hash of everything if we don’t....” Then for a time the Captain meditated in silence and chewed his knuckle. His face darkened to a scowl. He swore as though some thought twisted and tormented him. “Let some other man get her! Think of her with some other man.” “I don’t care,” he said, when obviously he did. “There’s other women in the world. “A man—a man mustn’t care for _that_.... “It’s this or that,” said the Captain, “anyhow....” § 11 Suddenly the Captain’s mind was made up and done. He arose to his feet and his face was firm and tranquil and now nearer pallor than pink. He left his bicycle and trailer by the wayside even as Christian left his burden. He asked a passing nurse-girl the way to the nearest railway station, and thither he went. Incidentally, and because the opportunity offered, he called in upon a cyclist’s repair shop and committed his abandoned machinery to its keeping. He went straight to London, changed at his flat, dined at his club, and caught the night train for France—for France and whatever was left of the grand manœuvres. He wrote a letter to Madeleine from the Est train next day, using their customary endearments, avoiding any discussion of their relations and describing the scenery of the Seine valley and the characteristics of Rouen in a few vivid and masterly phrases. “If she’s worth having, she’ll understand,” said the Captain, but he knew perfectly well she would not understand. Mrs. Geedge noted this letter among the others, and afterwards she was much exercised by Madeleine’s behaviour. For suddenly that lady became extraordinarily gay and joyous in her bearing, singing snatches of song and bubbling over with suggestions for larks and picnics and wild excursions. She patted Mr. Geedge on the shoulder and ran her arm through the arm of Professor Bowles. Both gentlemen received these familiarities with a gawky coyness that Mrs. Geedge found contemptible. And moreover Madeleine drew several shy strangers into their circle. She invited the management to a happy participation. Her great idea was a moonlight picnic. “We’ll have a great camp-fire and afterwards we’ll dance—this very night.” “But wouldn’t it be better to-morrow?” “To-night!” “To-morrow perhaps Captain Douglas may be back again. And he’s so good at all these things.” Mrs. Geedge knew better because she had seen the French stamp on the letter, but she meant to get to the bottom of this business, and thus it was she said this.