Thurston rose, answering, very sternly and coldly. "Prove to my own satisfaction if it is true, that my wife is not, and never can be, happy in her new home. I shall not ask her, because she does not know herself what is good for her. I am egotistical enough to think that I understand her better than her own family—and even better than you. And I am convinced that a few years away from her own country, and her own people, will convert the spoilt child into a splendid, self-controlled woman. If I am mistaken, I assure you, the way of retreat shall be made very easy for her." "Er—how long will it take to discover all this—a lifetime?" "About twelve hours." Glen looked at him thoughtfully, feeling that, owing to his jealousy, he had always been unjustly prejudiced against Indiana’s husband. There was a consciousness of right, a dignity in Thurston’s bearing, which impressed him. And beneath the calm, cold manner in which he had spoken, Glen recognized an undercurrent of pain. It dawned on him, suddenly, that the other’s composure was only repression, and the man was suffering. He also appreciated the unfailing courtesy with which he had been treated. "Lord Canning," he said, rising, "I don’t feel near as confident, as I did when I came in. I was sure my platform was a just and equitable one, but since I’ve been watching you and listening, I begin to feel a little ashamed of myself." "No occasion for it, I’m sure," Thurston replied, kindly. "You’re a fine fellow, and if Indiana’s not happy with you, it’s not your fault. It’s the fault of your nationality—that’s the only weak point I see in you." "An Englishman and his nationality cannot be so easily divorced as a husband and wife," said Thurston, significantly. Glen held out his hand. "Lord Canning, although it’s against my own interests, I—I wish you luck." "Thank you, sir. One moment, please," touching the bell, "the house is already closed for the night." They waited silently until Jennings appeared. "Show this gentleman out, Jennings. Then lock the door securely." "Yes, yer lordship." "Good night," said Glen. He stepped back to the fire, where Thurston was standing, adding, confidentially, "You won’t see me again. I shall keep out of the way. I won’t move a step in this matter until I am quite convinced the case is hopeless with you. Good night." When he reached the street, he found the cabman asleep on the box. He touched him on the shoulder. "Where to, sir?" "Anywhere—only drive," slipping a sovereign in his hand. The cabman whipped up his horse furiously. He had been following similar instructions since ten o’clock. It was now past midnight, and the handsome young American still persisted in his strange whim. He refrained, however, from fatiguing his brain with futile questions, realizing the fallacy of such a proceeding, when a sovereign reposed securely in his pocket.