The cleverest men make mistakes, and Oliver Trent had made a second. He had not told Bice his news about Ibbetson cruelly, or in such a manner as to force her to feel that either by start or word she had revealed to another the secret of which she had not actually been conscious until that moment. He had only mentioned it in her hearing, when the dusk of evening was there to hide any sign of emotion, treating it as a trivial matter with which Kitty was at least as much concerned as she, and he had talked on so as to give her time to recover her composure. His mistake lay in telling her at all. A woman who has received a wound of this kind may be brave enough to hide the wound, but she never forgets the hand that has wounded her. To the day of her death its touch recalls something of the sharpness of the first pang. No one saw much of Bice through the next day. Trent let her alone, having a perception that she would not brook interference, and that, at whatever cost, he must be patient. Mrs Masters, when he asked her, said that she had taken Andrea's daughter, Chiara, and had gone up to the _podere_ to speak about the vintage. "You let her do too much of that sort of work," said Trent, frowning. "How can I help it?" asked Mrs Masters, moving uneasily in her chair. "She has been accustomed to it ever since she was a child. I am quite unfitted for it, and, as you know, it is impossible for me to keep an agent. This poverty is odious. I suppose we shall save something this winter by letting the villa, and living with the Capponis in Rome; otherwise I have spent all the money you lent me, and have never even dared tell Bice I had it from you." "And how do you mean to help Clive?" "I cannot, I cannot!" she said, beginning to cry helplessly. "How is it possible? You will do something for the poor boy, Oliver?" "Why?" "Why?" She looked at him in bewilderment. "He is my cousin, certainly," he said with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, "but, on the whole, I have a good many cousins, and have never committed myself to the idea that I was bound to be general guardian and protector to all the young idiots among them who run their heads against stone walls. I don't even profess to be a benevolent philanthropist. I have told you before that I will do what I can for Clive on one condition--that Bice marries me. You had better urge her not to keep me too long in suspense. Patience is not my chief virtue." "I will, indeed--to-day." "Not to-day," said Oliver, considering. "To-morrow. Say as much as you like about Clive, but do not let her know I have desired you to speak to her. And stay, you had better own that you have borrowed money from me." "It will make her so angry," said Mrs Masters piteously. "No matter, I wish her to know the fact. You will want more, I suppose, when Bice is my wife, and you will not find me ungenerous."