But of course she would not go to the Park and wait for him. He would send an express messenger with a note to tell her that he was unable to keep the appointment. "I'll write it now," he said to himself and he stopped in the middle of washing his face and hands to find notepaper. "Damn, my hands are wet," he said aloud, and picked up a towel. "_Dear Lady Cecily_," he wrote, when he was dry, using the formal address because he wished to let her know that he was ill friends with her, "_I am sorry I shall not be able to meet you to-day as we arranged last night_." He wondered what excuse he should make for breaking off the appointment, and then decided that he would not make any. "I won't add anything else," he said, and he signed himself, "_Yours sincerely, Henry Quinn_." "She'll know that I'm sick of this ... messing about. I don't see why I should explain myself to her!" He sealed the envelope and put the letter aside, and sat for a while drumming on his table with the pen. "Mary's worth a dozen of her," he said aloud, getting up and going to bed. THE NINTH CHAPTER 1 They all rose early the next day. Ninian had been out of the house before any of them had reached the breakfast room, and when he returned, his arms were full of newspapers. "What's Walkley say?" said Gilbert. "That's all I want to know!" They opened the _Times_, and then, when they had read the criticism of "The Magic Casement," they murmured, "Charming! Splendid! Oh, ripping!" while Gilbert, sitting back in his chair, smiled beatifically and said, "Read it again, coves. Read it aloud and slowly!" While they were reading the notices, Henry went off to a post office, and sent his letter to Lady Cecily by express messenger. "That's settled," he said, as he returned home, for he had been afraid that he might change his mind. As he was shaving that morning, he had faltered in his resolution. "I'd better go," he had said to himself, and then had added weakly, "No, I'm damned if I will!" Well, it was settled now. The letter was on its way to her. She would probably be angry with him, but not as angry as he was with her, and perhaps they would not meet again for a long while. So much the better. Now he could get on with his book in peace. Gilbert was right. Women _do_ upset things. Well, this particular woman would not upset him again.... They had read all the notices when Henry returned, and were now at breakfast. Roger was relating the latest legal jest about Mr. Justice Kirkcubbin, a poor old man who persisted in clinging to the Bench in spite of the broadest hints from the _Law Journal_, and Ninian was making mysterious movements with his hands. "What's the matter, Ninian?" Henry asked, as he sat down at the table.