"I wonder how old John has got on with Harriet Courtland!" he said in an amused way. "He was uncommonly plucky to face her. But, upon my word, the best thing from some points of view would be for him to fail. At least it would be the best if old Tom wasn't such a fool. But as soon as Tom sees a chance of getting rid of one woman, he saddles himself with another." "Could he have got rid of Lady Harriet?" "They might have arranged a separation. As it is, there'll be an open row, I'm afraid." "Still if it puts an end to what's intolerable----?" she suggested, as she watched him drinking his coffee and smoking his cigarette with his delicate satisfaction in all things that were good. "A very unpleasant way out," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Would you have endured what Mr. Courtland couldn't?" He smiled across at her; the sarcastic note was strong in his voice as he asked: "Do you think me an impatient man? Do you think I've no power of enduring what I don't like, Sibylla?" She flushed a little under his look. "It's true," he went on, "that I endure vulgarity worst of all; and Harriet Courtland's tantrums are very vulgar, as all tantrums are." "Only tantrums? Aren't all emotions, all feelings, rather vulgar, Grantley?" He thought a smile answer enough for that. It is no good arguing against absurd insinuations, or trying to show them up. Let them alone; in time they will die of their own absurdity. "Grantley, would you rather I went away? Don't you find life unendurable like this?" "I don't find it pleasant," he smiled; "but I would certainly rather you didn't go away. If you want a change for a few weeks, I'll endeavour to resign myself." "I mean, go away altogether." "No, no, I'm sure you don't mean anything so---- Forgive me, Sibylla, but now and then your suggestions are hard to describe with perfect courtesy." She looked at him in a wondering way, but made no answer; and he too was silent for a minute. "I think it would be a good thing," he went on, "if you and Frank betook yourselves to Milldean for a few weeks. I'm so busy that I can see very little of you here, and country air is good for nerves." "Very well, we'll go in a day or two. You'll stay here?" "Yes, I must. I'll try to get down now and then, and bring some cheerful people with me. Blake will come sometimes, I daresay. Jeremy won't till he's rich and famous, I'm afraid." In spite of herself, it flashed across her that he was making her path very easy. And she wondered at the way he spoke of Blake, at his utter absence of suspicion. Her conscience moved a little at this. "Yes, I'm sure you'll be better at Milldean," he went on; "and--and try to think things over while you're there." It was his old attitude. He had nothing to think over--that task was all for her. The old resentment overcame her momentary shame at deceiving him. "Are they so pleasant that I want to think them over?"