He was not likely to forget for many a day that he had been outwitted, made a fool of by a woman whom he imagined he had under his thumb, but there was more than a passing sensation of satisfaction and even pleasure in the realization that he could wring tears from such a girl as Caroline, that he had broken down such a proud spirit as hers. He approached her a step nearer, but an interruption came to this little scene at this moment. As Caroline had opened the door the cook, who had been hovering outside on the staircase (really nervous as to what was passing) made her appearance. "Don't you think as you ought to have some breakfast, miss, and rest a bit? There'll be a message perhaps from Mrs. Lancing by-and-by." Caroline picked up her hat and her gloves. "Thank you, I will come," she said. "Look here," said Broxbourne, following her quickly and scowling at the servant, "I'd like to say something more to you about this. When can I see you?" She leaned against the doorway and rested with her eyes shut for half a moment, then she looked at him. "I am going back to Yelverton now, directly." He paused a moment, and then he said, in a dogged sort of way-- "Then I'll go to Yelverton, too. Now I'll take myself off." As he passed her, Caroline put out her hand and caught his arm feebly. "Sir Samuel, you will not----" words failed her. There was a pompous air about him as he answered that broken sentence. "I will do nothing till I have seen you again. Will that please you?" She could only bend her head. As he went heavily down the stairs her eyes closed again. Like a blind, broken-down creature, she turned into the drawing-room once more, and as she fell into a chair she lay there inert, too prostrate to move or even to think consciously for a little while at least. CHAPTER XV The dark green blind flapped lazily to and fro against the lower part of the open window, letting in occasional streaks of golden light, and stirring the delicate fronds of the fern that, with a pot of heliotrope and some bowls of flowers, stood on the table at the foot of the bed. Caroline lay and watched for those fugitive glimpses of sunshine and sun-bathed trees. It must be very lovely out in the garden, so she mused, dreamily; only it was such a long, long way to get there, and here it was so pleasantly restful, so calm, so conducive to dreams. A great many birds had congregated on the big beech tree close to her windows; there was a swallow's nest just under the eaves of the roof, and a great twittering went on every now and then. Caroline could picture the cluster of yellow, wide-open beaks, and the industrious mother voyaging backwards and forwards, always with some toothsome morsel for one of those hungry mouths in her own beak. "I think tiny swallows are very greedy," she said to herself, sleepily. "They are never satisfied." And some one answered her--a small voice, from the floor, apparently.