"Tell Mr. Farlow I want to speak to him," he called to her. "Up in my study!" He went to his room, and stood staring out of the window until Gilbert came. "Hilloa, Quinny, what's up?" Gilbert said, as he entered the study. Henry turned to him. He could _feel_ the pallor of his cheeks, so nervous was he. "Gilbert," he said desperately, "I want to talk to you!" "Yes?..." "I'm not going to Ireland with you!" "Not going!... Why?" He moved mechanically towards Gilbert and stopped at the table where he wrote. He stood for a few moments, fingering things, turning over pieces of foolscap and tapping the table with a paper knife. "What is it, Quinny?" Gilbert said again, and as he spoke, he came up to Henry and touched him. "Is it ... is it anything about Cecily?" Henry nodded his head. "I thought so," Gilbert continued. He moved away and sat down. "Well, tell me about it," he said. "I'm in love with her, Gilbert!" "Yes." "I ... I asked her to run away with me!..." Gilbert laughed. "You have hustled, Quinny," he said. "And she wouldn't, eh?" "No!" Gilbert's laughter stimulated him, and he spoke more fluently. "But she's in love with me. She told me so. I've just come from her. And she wants me to stay in town." "To be near her?" "Yes. Yes, I suppose so. I had to tell you. I felt that I must tell you. Gilbert, I'm ashamed, but I can't help it. I love her so much that I'd ... I'd do anything for her." Gilbert did not move nor did he speak. He sat in his chair, looking very intently at Henry. "I can't understand myself," Henry went on. "My feelings are hopelessly mixed up. I want to do decent things and I loathe cads, but all the same I do caddish things myself. I want to be straight, but I'm not straight. ... It's awfully hard to explain what I mean, but there's something in me that seems to keep pulling me out of line, and I haven't enough force in me to beat it. I suppose it's the mill in my blood. My grandfather was a mill-owner." Gilbert shook his head and smiled. "I don't think your notions of heredity are sound, Quinny. Is that all you have to confess?" "All?" "Yes. There isn't anything else?" "No. I wanted to tell you that I'm ashamed, but I must tell you, too, that although I'm ashamed, I shan't stop loving Cecily. I can't...." Gilbert got up and went over to him. He sat on the edge of the table so that Henry, when he looked up, had to gaze straight at him.