The Home Secretary had never spoken of Sir Bernard Vanbrugh’s refusal. His repulse had mortified him deeply, but he took it sedately as he took most other things. He blamed himself for not having made sure of Hero in the first place, and with a certain obstinacy he still clung to the idea that she would sooner or later be his. Sir Bernard had been equally silent on his side. He did not know which way his daughter’s inclination went, and wanted to avoid a disagreement. The Duchess, whose diplomacy was of the simplest order, went on to say to Alistair: “Don’t you think you would like to come abroad for a little time? The Vanbrughs have a house at Dinard, and it would be very pleasant if you would take me over there.” Alistair gazed at his mother in doubt. He could hardly misunderstand her drift, and the light in his eyes was a sufficient revelation to her of his own wishes. But the gossip which had reached him concerning his brother and Hero Vanbrugh held him back. “What about Trent?” he said. “He can’t leave town till Parliament rises, of course. He may join us afterwards, perhaps.” Alistair was puzzled by his mother’s indifferent tone. “Will he like me to be there in his absence?” he asked. The Duchess was equally puzzled. “Why, what difference does it make to him?” she returned. “Isn’t there something? I thought--I heard that he and Miss Vanbrugh----” The Duchess looked at him in surprise. “Oh, no!” she declared with confidence. “There has never been any idea of that kind. He likes her very much as a friend, but he would not think of anything more. I know exactly what his views are; he has often told me. He means to marry a great fortune. Hero will have money, no doubt,” she was quick to add. “Her father is rich for a professional man, I believe. But, of course, he could not give her enough for Trent.” Alistair received the assurance with a throb of delight, as his mother’s project suddenly shone out to him in the bright light of hope. But a misgiving of another kind assailed him, and one which he found it more difficult to explain to her. He found himself ashamed to pass straight from the side of Molly Finucane to such a girl as Hero Vanbrugh. It would be almost an insult, he thought; it would be acting as though he sought Hero, not for her own sake, but as a sort of refuge, a substitute for the woman he had left. The sense of shame which Hero alone had been able to rouse in him returned in its full force at the idea of presenting himself before her with all the stains of his past life still showing, with Molly’s kisses fresh upon his lips. He felt a desire to go away first and purge his life in other scenes, to renew himself in some atmosphere of sweet and strong endeavour from which he could hope to emerge fitter for Hero’s love.