“Where did you leave Gerald?” Katherine asked, amused. “I didn’t think he would get very far!” “You might have waited for me then,” I answered gruffly. “You were in a mighty hurry to start.” It gave me a sort of stupid pleasure to think I was showing by my manner that I considered myself neglected, so I proceeded deliberately to be as unpleasant as possible. That I had joined them had obviously not annoyed them in the least――Katherine had certainly shown no annoyance when she had greeted me――yet I told myself that this was only pretence, and that they wished me away. And then, as I thought how there might have been some secret understanding between them, and that perhaps Katherine had arranged to be down at the lodge when we arrived so that she might send me back to the house for Gerald, I felt――though I really did not believe in any such scheming――a violent anger against them both. When she saw the kind of humour I was in, Katherine ceased to take any notice of me, and this made me worse. I had not sense enough to leave them. A kind of perversity seemed to force me to do everything I could to make myself objectionable. I had an insane desire to quarrel with Owen, and presently I contradicted him flatly when he said something I knew to be perfectly true. He flushed and his eyes brightened angrily, but he controlled himself. “What is the matter with you, Peter?” he asked. “Nothing,” I muttered. I bounded away from them. I ran down the mountain-side at the risk of breaking an ankle, leaping from one point to another. I did not pause when I came to where Gerald lay in the grass, but continued my headlong descent till I reached the woods. I had come down in an incredibly short time, and the violence of my flight had relieved me. I walked now at an ordinary pace, wondering what the others would think, conscious that I had made a fool of myself, yet laying all the blame on Katherine. The woods were silent save for the occasional note of a robin or the low twitter of a swallow. I stopped by a marshy hollow to look at a vivid splash of yellow irises, and I gathered an armful of them for Mrs. Carroll. CHAPTER XLV Owen and I dined at Derryaghy that night, but all through dinner I sat very quiet. No allusion was made by the others to my having left them, which showed, I thought, that they had discussed it among themselves and had agreed not to take any notice.