Hench answered flippantly, as the conversation was getting on his nerves. "What about hen-roost massacres?" Mrs. Perage rose, and was about to rebuke him when she saw, as Gwen had seen earlier, the white pinched look on his face. "You're over-wrought, my friend. I want you to promise me two things." "Yes. What are they?" asked the young man wearily. "In the first place do not make any move in these matters until I give you leave. I have a plan in my head." "What is it?" "I shan't tell it until it is carried out. In the second place do not come to my house until to-morrow afternoon." "But Gwen will believe more than ever that I am----" "What she thinks you are in a moment of rage on her part," finished Mrs. Perage. "That's just it. If you see her now you will spoil all. Wait until I tell you that it is safe to come." "Very well. But I can't let you take my burden on your shoulders and stay here doing nothing. It's not cricket." "You'll get all the cricket you require, I promise you," said Mrs. Perage as she took her departure. "I don't mind telling you," she added, glancing back, "that it interests me to have something exciting of this sort to do. Life is rather dull hereabouts." "I only hope it will not prove too exciting." The old lady laughed and stepped briskly out of the cottage, while Owain remained where he was kicking against the pricks. He wished to see Gwen, but as he had promised to wait for instructions he could not do so. Like the lady who had just left, he found life in Cookley intolerably dull at the moment. But then, as Gwen was not beside him, he would have found it equally dull had he been alone in Paris or London. It was Gwen who made up his existence, and nothing else mattered particularly. To such lengths does the passion of love lead ordinarily sensible human beings. Meanwhile, Mrs. Perage walked home briskly, turning over certain plans in her very capable mind. She did not seek out Gwen, who was weeping in the retirement of her bedroom, since all explanations at the present moment were futile. But Mrs. Perage decided that when the girl grew calmer a very positive explanation, which could not be mistaken, should be made to her by the right person. To bring about this necessary event she looked up her nephew, whom she found dawdling in the garden with a cigarette and a French novel. Vane lay on the grass under a shady tree clothed in white flannels, and looked rather alarmed when his aunt appeared. The day was hot, and Mrs. Perage was so uncommonly active that she was scarcely a desirable companion for a lazy man. His anxiety was therefore natural. "Sit up and listen," said Mrs. Perage, getting to work at once. "I've seen our young friend, and I now know as much as you do."