The amusement in Anstice's eyes drove Colonel Dermot to an apology. "I'm so confoundedly glad that you and he came together that I'm letting my tongue run away with me. But you mustn't shut yourself away from people as you do. It's cruel on them. We haven't too many charming acquaintances round. And housekeeping and nursery talk can't satisfy a woman with such gifts as yours." "Oh, come! What gifts have I? I can talk and laugh, and listen, not much else." "Do you want the truth from me?" Something in his tone and look made Anstice say hastily: "No, I think not. And I know my own limitations. I feel friendly disposed towards every one, but I've a certain amount of home duties which cannot be neglected. I came here to do certain things in my husband's absence. I do not want to be hindered from carrying out my plans." "Don't be too conscientious," advised Colonel Dermot. "Let your natural impulses have a chance." They talked on together. He found her elusive directly he tried to get to close quarters, and when he got up to go, he sighed heavily. "I think I must come down in the autumn and have some more rambles over the Fells with you. Perhaps when you have tasted real loneliness, you will be kinder to me." "I could not be kinder than I feel at present," replied Anstice with her frank, sweet smile; "as my husband's old friend, and Ruffie's godfather, I look upon you as my friend also, and shall always be glad to see you when you are in our neighbourhood. Good-bye." She gave him her hand, which he deliberately raised to his lips, and as he strode away, he murmured to himself: "I wish I had the power to penetrate her outer crust. She is too warm-blooded a creature to be so sweetly indifferent. If Justin does not appreciate her, he will find that others do." When Anstice met Mrs. Wykeham a few days later, she was chaffed lightly upon her friendship with the Colonel. "He has spent most of his time with you, and if you were not both suitably married, I should say you were made for one another." "He is my husband's friend," protested Anstice, "and my husband's friends will always, I hope, be mine." Her quiet dignity and ease of manner stopped Mrs. Wykeham's banter. "Well, my dear, I consider myself one of your husband's oldest friends, so I expect to see more of you than I have done already. I am giving a garden-party next Thursday. Don't give me any excuses, but come." "Thank you. I will." But when the day came, Anstice felt loath to meet her neighbours. One or two had already called, and each visit had been somewhat of a strain. She was really delighted to see the heavy clouds roll up from the Fells, and come down in a steady downpour at three o'clock and onwards. Loneliness had no terror for her. She was perfectly content with her simple, lonely life. And for the present she much preferred being out of all social festivities.