All was not over yet. That evening Chillington broke away. Led by vanity, or interest, or friendliness, I know not which--tired maybe of paying court (the attitude in which Pamela kept him), and thinking it would be pleasant to play the other part for a while--after dinner he went straight to Miss Liston, talked to her while we had coffee on the terrace, and then walked about with her. Pamela sat by me; she was very silent; she did not appear to be angry, but her handsome mouth wore a resolute expression. Chillington and Miss Liston wandered on into the shrubbery, and did not come into sight again for nearly half an hour. "I think it's cold," said Pamela, in her cool, quiet tones. "And it's also, Mr. Wynne, rather slow. I shall go to bed." I thought it a little impertinent of Pamela to attribute the 'slowness' (which had undoubtedly existed) to me, so I took my revenge by saying, with, an assumption of innocence purposely and obviously unreal, "Oh, but won't you wait and bid Miss Liston and Chillington good-night?" Pamela looked at me for a moment. I made bold to smile. Pamela's face broke slowly into an answering smile. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Wynne," said she. "No?" said I. "No," said Pamela, and she turned away. But before she went she looked over her shoulder, and, still smiling, said, "Wish Miss Liston good-night for me, Mr. Wynne. Anything I have to say to Sir Gilbert will wait very well till to-morrow." She had hardly gone in when the wanderers came out of the shrubbery and rejoined me. Chillington wore his usual passive look, but Miss Liston's face was happy and radiant. Chillington passed on into the drawing-room. Miss Liston lingered a moment by me. "Why, you look," said I, "as if you'd invented the finest scene ever written." She did not answer me directly, but stood looking up at the stars. Then she said in a dreamy tone, "I think I shall stick to my old idea in the book." As she spoke Chillington came out. Even in the dim light I saw a frown on his face. "I say, Wynne," said he, "where's Miss Myles?" "She's gone to bed," I answered. "She told me to wish you good-night for her, Miss Liston. No message for you, Chillington." Miss Liston's eyes were on him. He took no notice of her; he stood frowning for an instant, then, with some muttered ejaculation, he strode back into the house. We hoard his heavy tread across the drawing-room; we heard the door slammed behind him, and I found myself looking on Miss Liston's altered face.