He made no effort to follow her, however; there had been something authoritative in her voice and in her manner--something that stung him almost reproachfully. But his chief sensation was a rueful realization of failure. "I am a vain, clumsy fool!" he said to himself, with a vast amount of irritation. And after he had walked about for some considerable time, and had pondered the situation carefully, this unflattering estimate of himself strengthened. If he could have comfortably taken himself away from Yelverton he would have done so; but as he had proposed himself for this visit it would have been difficult to have found a tangible reason for ending it in so abrupt a fashion. The quiet, comfortable influence of the house, and particularly the presence of the children, worked pleasantly on his troubled mood, however, and at dinner-time he sat chatting briskly away over his American experiences, and noting with some satisfaction (and a good deal more vexation) that the girl in the white gown on the opposite side of the table matched himself in ease of manner and flow of spirit. "I find him wonderfully improved," said Mrs. Brenton, as she and Caroline sat having their coffee in the hall. "Oh, he was always fairly good looking," said the girl, carelessly. She had let Betty decorate her for dinner, and there was a large red flower tucked in among the masses of her dark hair just behind one small ear. She had grown taller, but was just as slim as ever; although Mrs. Brenton invented all sorts of fattening dishes entirely for Caroline's consumption, she refused to grow fat. "Oh, I don't mean his looks, I mean his manner! Don't you find him ever so much brighter and brisker? He seems quite happy too. I am glad of that!" Caroline put down her coffee-cup. She heard the dining-room door open. "I am just going to run upstairs to see if Betty has dropped off. She looked very wakeful." Her white gown whisked out of sight as Mr. Brenton and his guest came out of the dining-room, and though they sat a long time chatting and smoking, Miss Graniger never came back. "I am trying to divide her a little from this devotion to the children, but it is not very successful," Mrs. Brenton said to Rupert, "and yet she cannot remain with them all her life." "I am afraid she is rather obstinate," Haverford remarked, a trifle grimly. The next morning he left Yelverton early--so early that the children were only half dressed when he went. Betty lamenting, recalled a score of promises unfulfilled, and wept bitterly; and Caroline, as she listened to the child, felt almost ashamed. "Although," she argued with herself, "he need not have gone away if he had not wanted to go." Mrs. Brenton at luncheon gave it as her opinion that the change she had remarked in Rupert Haverford denoted more than a surface alteration. "I am convinced," she said, "he is going to marry an American. Isn't it too abominable? I am so disappointed."