"Yes, it's unfortunate, I admit. And I don't think it was Gillie's fault! He's described the scene to me in great detail. He was quite willing to go as far as I think he could be expected to go in the way of apology and contrition. But Pavely simply didn't give him a chance. Pavely's a narrow-minded brute, mother." "Is Gillie very upset? Is he much disappointed?" she asked in a low voice. "Yes, I think Gillie is upset--more upset than I should have expected him to be! He's disappointed, too, at not having seen little Alice. He's really fond of children, and, as he truly says, Alice is bound to be his heiress--unless of course he should marry, which is very unlikely." Oliver was speaking in a preoccupied, absent voice, as if he was hardly thinking of what he was saying. "We're thinking, he and I, of going to the Continent next week. We've got business to do in Paris--rather important business, too. Of course I'll try and come back here before leaving for Mexico." Mrs. Tropenell felt as if the walls of the room were falling about her. Oliver had always spoken of late as if he meant to stay on in England till after Christmas. "How long d'you expect to be in France?" "I can't tell yet, mother. I might be there a fortnight, or I might be there six weeks--it all depends on the business we're going to do. No dates are settled yet." He waited a few moments, then said slowly, "I've been wondering whether you would mind going up with Laura to London for a few days? Somehow I think Pavely is more likely to let her go if you offer to go too." There swept over her a feeling of recoil, but she let her son see nothing of that. "Very well," she said quietly. "I quite understand--I'll do my best. I agree that Laura ought to see her brother again. And what are _you_ thinking of doing, my dear?" "Oh, I thought of going up to town, too." He spoke with a detached air. "You and I could stay in that nice little hotel where we stayed years ago, mother. Of course I'm only thinking of a few days in town, before Gillie and I go off to Paris." As they came through into the house, she was startled by the expression on her son's face. He looked as if he had had a shock; he was very pale, it was as if all the healthy colour had been drained out of his tan cheeks. "Oliver?" she exclaimed. "Do you feel ill, my darling? When you came in before dinner you looked as if you had caught a chill." "It was rather cold on the downs, but I feel very much as usual, thank you, mother. A talk with Gillie always tires me. I think he's got a rather----" he hesitated for a word, then found it--"obstreperous vitality." CHAPTER XI When Godfrey Pavely arrived at the Bank next morning it seemed to him that days, instead of hours, had gone by, since that hateful and degrading scene had taken place between himself and his wife's brother.