The sound of a bell jingled through the quiet house, and Dane rose from his chair. Of old he had been as a son in this house, treated with affection and familiarity, but at this moment he felt an intruder, whose presence was merely an inconvenience, taking up time which should have been bestowed elsewhere. He held out his hand, and said: "At what hour to-morrow will it be most convenient for me to call to see Teresa?" "I will ask her," Mrs Mallison said, and left the room, to return with astonishing quickness. Evidently there had been no hesitation about the reply; evidently also the maternal judgment approved. "Teresa says she will be glad if you will excuse her to-morrow. There is so much to do. She would rather leave her own affairs until after the funeral. Perhaps you will come in to tea on Thursday." "Thank you. I will come in after tea. About five o'clock. I am staying at the hotel. Please let me know if there is anything I can do." He kept his voice resolutely controlled, but his anger showed in sparkling eye, and a rising of colour over cheek and brow. Mrs Mallison regarded these signs with a natural satisfaction. It was not in feminine human nature to resist one parting thrust. "One day," she said suavely, "cannot matter, when you have waited so long!" CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. THE SECOND BEST. Dane awoke next morning to face a long and difficult day. Idle hours are proverbially dedicated to temptation, and despite many resolutions his thoughts drifted continually towards Cassandra, continually emphasised her nearness, and dallied with the possibility of a meeting. He swore that such a meeting should not be his own doing, but what if chance brought it about? For some moments he permitted himself to envisage possibilities, then sternly called himself to order. Teresa in sorrow demanded an undivided loyalty; her tenderness during the past year riveted her claims. He determined to telephone to the Squire, apologise for his own inability to call at the Court, and try to arrange a meeting in town, but half an hour later as he stood on the step of the hotel, he saw the familiar dog-cart driving towards him, and heard himself hailed in loud, well-known tones. "Halloa, Peignton! Heard you were here. Drove round to say how d'you do." The Squire gave the reins to the groom. "I'll come inside and have a smoke... Poor old fellow went off in a hurry, eh? S'pose you are staying over the funeral?" "Yes. Till Friday morning. I'm glad you called. I was going to ring you up, and explain that I should have no time to pay calls..." "No. No. Of course not. Son of the house; you'll have the whole show on your hands. And Teresa, eh? Bit of lost time to make up, what? Thought you were never going to turn up again... You know your own business best, of course..." "I do," Dane said firmly, but the Squire was not sensitive to rebuffs.