“As if that were possible,” said Hugh, affectionately. He was always glad to see poor Lilia’s “mammy.” Her round placid face and kind eyes were dear to him. But as he presided at the luncheon table, and talked to her and to Ralph, who appeared in the seventh heaven with delight and importance, he hardly knew what they said, or how he answered them, except that the words carpets, curtains, furniture, were frequently repeated. He was wondering how he should explain his absence that evening to “mammy,” who regarded him as an incorrigible recluse. “I fear I must seem rude, and leave you to-night for an hour or two,” he said, as they rose from table. “Patients make doctors’ laws,” said Mrs. Mervyn, sagely. “I know _that_.” “But this is a private concert at Lady Boisville’s,” said Hugh, uneasily. “Nothing to do with business. In an evil hour I promised to go.” “My dear, I am so glad that you are coming out of your shell,” said Mrs. Mervyn, warmly. “And that reminds me. When am I to be ready to play hostess at the Pinewood? It is necessary that I should know, to have everything in order.” Hugh looked at her in consternation. He had forgotten his wild, fleeting ideas that day at the Pinewood. Evidently Mrs. Mervyn had not. “Oh! I have not thought any more about that,” he said. “Then I am glad I have reminded you,” said “mammy.” “And really you men of science are so unpractical in ordinary life, that the best thing one can do with you, I think, is to help you a bit. I suppose you mean to ask your friends for the partridge shooting? There are plenty of birds about; and old Cæsar has been taking pains with them since he knew for certain you were coming down.” Before they parted, Hugh was aware that this was before him: he was to entertain the princess at the Pinewood. It was his own fault. When he had persuaded himself that day in the country that he was planning to entertain Sir David Forwood and his wife, he was deceiving himself. “I wanted _her_ there,” he told himself, in consternation. “What influence has that girl over me, and how in Heaven’s name did she get it?” He felt like some ponderous fly may feel entangled in the fine web of a seemingly insignificant spider. That delicate creature! How came it that he, a strong man, was subject to her will, or rather, her caprice? “It must not be,” he told himself, sternly; “although, of course, I must fulfil my promise. I must see her, when and how she plans for these few days. But after that, _no more_.” His determination seemed to him so strong, that he grew quite cheerful, and after a pleasant chat with Mrs. Mervyn during and after dinner, he sent her to the opera with Ralph and dressed for Lady Boisville’s concert quite as if these new doings had been his rule of life.