"That depends on you, Hugh." Betty was actually smiling as she looked up at me, and that made me angrier than ever. "You mean until I am ready to trust you," I blurted out. "If you like to put it that way." The discussion had let us into an _impasse_; there was nothing more to be said. I accompanied Betty to the Crown Ferry station, and saw my little family party of wife, baby, and nurse safely aboard the sleeper. Even at that last moment I should have dropped everything and gone along had Betty given me the smallest opening. But she said no further word, and I could not conquer at once my masculine pride and my jealous fear. I watched the red tail lights of the train disappear around a curve, and told myself that I was the unhappiest man and the biggest fool on God's green earth. Chapter XVIII _I Break a Promise_ Needless to say that the summer dragged heavily with me. Betty wrote regularly, but her letters were of a strictly impersonal nature, and I took especial care to answer in the same vein. Luckily, there was little Hugh as a point of common interest, and we made the most of it. But neither of us offered the least allusion to the real crisis in our relations. I was frankly and wretchedly unhappy, and I could only hope that Betty was no better satisfied with the situation. I kept busy, of course, with the care of the estate. There was a new drainage system to be installed, and the long neglected acres of "Thane Court" to look after. Of Warriner I heard little and saw less. He was busy with his laboratory work at Calverton, and there was really small opportunity for us to meet. Indeed for months we lived as rigidly apart as though at opposite poles; once I ran across him at a granger meeting in Lynn, and again on a cold, rainy afternoon in October when I chanced to drop in at "Powersthorp" for a cup of tea. I fancied that there was marked restraint in his manner as I walked into Hilda Powers' drawing room, but in the presence of an hostess the amenities must be preserved, and we managed to rub along for the half hour of my stay. I was annoyed, nevertheless, for I had been hoping for a confidential chat with Hilda about Betty, knowing that the two corresponded regularly. Illogically enough, I charged up my disappointment to Warriner, and disliked him more hotly than ever. I dare say he divined my veiled antagonism, and I could see that it made him uncomfortable. As to that I did not care a button, but I had wanted to hear about Betty, and now her name was barely mentioned. I reflected that people were probably wondering over her protracted visit in the North, but no one had ventured to broach the subject to me, and I would have suffered it least of all from him. So the months went on.