Stephen had got the baby now on his shoulder. “Off to Cornwall,” he shouted and charged down the room. It was at that instant that Peter was conscious that Clare had been standing, for some moments, in the room. She stood, quite silently, without moving, by the door, her eyes blazing at him.... His first thought was of that other time when she had found him in the nursery, of the quarrel that they had had. Then he noticed the state of the room, the overturned chairs and table. Then he saw Mr. Zanti still wiping his forehead, but confusedly, and staring at Clare in a shocked hushed way, as though he were a small boy who had been detected with his fingers in a jam-pot. Stephen saw her at last. He put the baby down and came slowly across the floor. Peter spoke: “Why, Clare! You're back early. We've been having such a splendid time with Stephen--let me introduce my friends to you--Mr. Zanti and Mr. Brant... you've heard me speak of them--” They came towards her. She shook hands with them, regarding them gravely. “How do you do?” There was silence. Then Mr. Zanti said--“We must be goin'--longer than we ought to stop--we 'ave business--” Peter felt rising in him a cold and surging anger at her treatment of them. These two, the best friends that he had in the world--that she should dare! “Oh! you'll stay to dinner, you two! You must--” “I'm afraid, ver' afraid,” Mr. Zanti said bowing very low and still looking at Clare with apologetic, troubled eyes, “we 'ave no time. Immediate business.” Still Clare said nothing. There was another moment's silence, and then Peter said: “I'll come down and see you off.” Still without moving from her place she shook hands with them. “Good-bye.” They all three went out. Peter could say nothing. The words seemed to be choked in his throat by this tide of anger that was like nothing he had ever felt before. He held their hands for a moment as they stood outside in the dusk. “Where are you staying? I must see you again--” “We go down to Cornwall to-morrow.” Stephen caught Peter's shoulder: “Come down to us, Peter, if you get a chance.” They all stared at one another; they were all, absolutely, entirely without words. Afterwards they would regret that they had said nothing, but now--! They vanished into the dusk and Peter, stepping into the house again, closed very softly the hall door behind him. CHAPTER X ROCKING THE ROUNDABOUT I As he climbed, once more, the stairs to the nursery, he was conscious of the necessity for a great restraint. Did he but relax for an instant his control he was aware that forces--often dimly perceived and shuddered at--would now, as never in his life before, burst into freedom. It was as though a whole life of joy and happiness had been suddenly snatched from him and it was Clare who had robbed him--Clare who had never cared what the things might be that she demanded from him--Clare who gave him nothing.