In the morning the impression of the night's alarm remained sharply enough with Pauline to make her anxious to see Guy, without waiting for the ordained interval to which they should submit; and all that day, when he did not come, for the first time she felt definitely the clamorous and persistent desire for his company, the absence of which the old perfection of her home was no longer able to counteract. For the first time in her life the Rectory had a sort of emptiness; and there was not a room on this tediously beautiful day, nor any nook in the garden, which could calm her with the familiar assurance of home. When the time for music came round, that night, it seemed to Pauline not at all worth while to play quartets in celebration of a day that had been so barren of events. "Don't you want to play?" they asked her in surprize. "Why should we play?" she countered. "But I'll listen to you, if you like." Of course she was persuaded into taking her part, and never had she been so often out of tune and never had her strings snapped so continuously. Always until to-night the performance of music had brought to her the peaceful irresponsibleness of being herself in a pattern: now this sense of design was irritating her with an arduous repression, until at last she put down her violin and refused to play any more. Pauline felt that the others knew the cause of her ill-temper, but none of them said anything about Guy and, with her for audience in one of the Caroline chairs, they played trios instead. Next day when Guy did come, it was wet; and Pauline wished Margaret would leave them together, so that they could talk: but Margaret stayed all the afternoon in the nursery, and Pauline made up her mind that somehow she must go for another walk with Guy. She found her mother alone in the drawing-room before dinner. "Mother, don't you think, Guy and I might go for a walk to-morrow?" "Oh, Pauline, you only went for a walk together the day before yesterday. And you really must remember you're not engaged. The Wychford people will gossip so, and that will make your father angry." "Well, why can't we be engaged openly?" "No, not yet. Now, please don't ask me. Pauline, I beg you will say no more about it." "Then I can go to-morrow," said Pauline. "Oh, Mother, you are so sweet to me." Mrs. Grey looked rather perplexed and as if she were vainly trying to determine what she had said to make Pauline suppose that leave for walks had been given. However, she evidently supposed it had; and when next Guy came to the Rectory, Pauline whispered to him they could go for a walk if they did not have to go through Wychford. She could not understand herself when she found it so difficult to tell Guy this delightful news, for it was she who had managed it; and yet here she was blushing in the revelation.