"No. It was only recently that I decided to sell. I have another country place in Kent, much more convenient." "Mebbe I could see it?" "Certainly. My agent will be pleased to show you over." As an afterthought he added: "Better still, we are spending a fortnight there, and I should be happy if you would spend the time with us. You could--ah--then examine the place at your leisure." Jim's eyes glistened. The prospect of a fortnight in close proximity to Angela--it was magnificent, unbelievable! He strove to control his eagerness. "I'll be sure pleased," he said. Jim went home with his brain in a whirl. Love had come, late, but with tremendous fury. He gained no sleep that night. The star of his desire shone like a mocking mirage before his mind's eye. It was all impossible, hopeless, but to love and lose were better than to live in ignorance of life's strongest passion. To dally with the impossible were sheer madness, he knew that. But what was to be done but obey the yearnings of his heart, though it brought its own revenge? The next morning saw Featherstone in a perfectly angelic mood. The cause was soon revealed. "My dear," he confided to his wife, "I have sold Little Badholme." "Claude!" "Ah, I thought that would come in the nature of a surprise." "But you said it was mortgaged?" "Quite so, but I shall get a sum much in excess of the mortgage." "But who----?" "That American fellow--Conlan; not a bad chap, not at all a bad chap." Lady Featherstone looked a trifle hurt. She looked more so when her noble spouse added: "So I've invited him down with us for a fortnight to look over the place." "Claude! Whatever has taken possession of you? I thought we had done with that man. And besides, I am not going to bury myself in Devonshire at the height of the season." "If you don't, my dear, there is likely to be no season--for us. You must look realities in the face. If I can sell Badholme----" "But you said you had sold it!" "Tut--tut! It is as good as sold. He can't refuse it after having stayed there with us. Besides, the fellow is as rich as Croesus!" It was accordingly settled. Featherstone sent volleys over the telephone. "Get the place thoroughly redecorated, Ayscough. It has to be finished in three weeks. Armies of workers.... And the blue room on the first floor, put in a new ceiling, something elaborate. What's that? Can't do it in three weeks? But it _has_ to be done. I leave it to you, my dear Ayscough.... Oh, the garden wants seeing to. I must have the garden put straight.... And the paths graveled.... A few sheep in the park might lend a nice effect.... Don't talk about impossibilities. This is a very urgent matter. Do you think you could hire half a dozen horses?"