It will be noted that different causes had brought about the same effect in two young women. Joyce realised her love for Lionel at the moment when she knew that he had need of her; Lady Margot was thrilled into what she believed to be love because she felt the need of him. Let psychologists determine whether or not this differentiates true love from its counterfeit presentment. She awoke, next day, quite herself, and capable of smiling mockingly at the momentary triumph of body over mind. But her resolution to marry Lionel remained fixed—a positive determination. Cool, matutinal reflection made her reconsider the over-night conviction that Joyce must necessarily be in love with Lionel merely because she had refused another man. The first thing to do was to put this conclusion to the test. Sooner or later an unsophisticated parson’s daughter would “give herself away.” To her credit, let it be recorded, she resisted the temptation to “pump” her maid. Gossip with servants was a violation of her code. And, invariably, it led to familiarity, which she abhorred. Moxon’s love story was told to her incidentally and inadvertently. Happy Chance had given her a clue. At breakfast Lady Pomfret became sensible of a subtle change in her guest. She sparkled as usual, but with a more vital scintillation. That might be the effect of country air upon a Mayfair maiden. Allowing for this, Lady Pomfret decided that Margot was “tuned up”—fully charged with electricity, ready to take the road to a definite destination. She proposed golf, a foursome—Sir Geoffrey, Lionel, Joyce and herself. With all her cleverness she was unable to speak Joyce’s name without an inflection of pity. Lady Pomfret caught that inflection and drew certain inferences. She said tentatively: “Yes, yes, dear Joyce has rather a dull time of it. Pray ask her, and bring her back to luncheon.” Sir Geoffrey seconded this. In his mind comparisons between Joyce and Margot (they all called her Margot) were inevitable, and much in favour of the little lady. Let Lionel see them together, the oftener the better! Accordingly, the four motored to Bramshaw, a New Forest course, fascinatingly pretty, set in the heart of the deep woods, where William of Orange planted the oaks which he designed in the fulness of time to become ships of the line. Sir Geoffrey being the best player, Lady Margot chose him as her partner. She wanted to watch Joyce with Lionel! The course was in excellent condition, and the fairway not too hard after July rains. The Squire remarked upon this, because it meant August hunting. Indeed, the first meet of the buckhounds had been fixed, and Lady Margot, without much pressure, had consented to prolong her visit. To Sir Geoffrey’s great satisfaction she cancelled a Scotch engagement, observing candidly: “I should be bored to tears up there.” The Squire asked jovially: “Does that mean, Margot, that you are not too bored with us?”