"And she never grumbles about it," said Lady Merceron admiringly. "She looks after her district, and takes a ride, and plays tennis, when she can get a game, poor girl, and is always cheerful and happy. She'd be a treasure of a wife to any man." "You'd better persuade Charlie of that, Lady Merceron." "Oh, Charlie never thinks of such a thing as marrying. He thinks of nothing but his antiquities." "Doesn't he?" asked Calder, with apparent sympathy and a covert sad amusement. "Mr. Wentworth," said Mrs. Marland, approaching, "I believe it's actually a fact that you've been here a week and have never yet been to the Pool." At this fateful word, Calder looked embarrassed, Charlie raised his head from the hammock, and Millie glanced involuntarily towards him. "We must take you," pursued Mrs. Marland, "this very evening. You'll come, Miss Bushell?" "I don't think I care very much about the Pool," said Millie. "We won't let Mr. Merceron take you in his canoe this time." Charlie rolled out of the hammock and came up to them. "You must take us to the Pool. I don't believe you've been there since you came back. Poor Agatha will quite---" "Agatha?" exclaimed Calder. "Agatha Merceron, you know. Why, haven't you heard---?" "Oh, ah! Yes, of course. I beg your pardon." "I hate that beastly Pool," said Charlie. "How can you?" smiled Mrs. Marland. "You used to spend hours there every evening." Charlie glanced uneasily at Calder, who turned very red. "Times have changed, have they?" Mrs. Marland asked archly. "You've got tired of looking in vain for Agatha?" "Oh, all right," said Charlie crossly, "we'll go after tea." Anything seemed better than this rallying mood of Mrs. Marland's. Presently the two young men went off together to play a game at billiards; but after half a dozen strokes Charlie plumped down in a chair. "I say, Calder, old chap, how do you feel?" he asked. Calder licked his cigar meditatively. "Better," said he at last. "Oh!" "And you?" "Worse--worse every day. I can't stand it, old chap. I shall go back." "What, to her?" "Yes." "That's hardly sticking to our bargain, you know." "But, hang it, what's the good of our both cutting her?" "Oh, I thought you did it because you were disgusted with her. That was my reason." "So it was mine, but---" "Probably she's got some other fellow by now," observed Calder calmly. "The devil!" cried Charlie. "What makes you think so?" "Oh, nothing. I know her way, you see." "You think she's that sort of girl? Good heavens!" "Well, if she wasn't, I'd like to know where you'd be, my friend. I shouldn't have the honor of your acquaintance." Charlie ignored this point. "And yet you wanted, to marry her?" "I dare say I was an ass--like better men before me and--er--since me." "Hang it!" cried Charlie. "I'm sick of the whole thing. I'm sick of life. I'm sick of all the nonsense of it. For two straws I'd have done with it, and marry Millie Bushell." "What! Look here, Charlie--"