He must have grown more experienced, for he was able to return without embarrassment to the affairs so strangely interrupted. She must have grown less so, because she answered him simply, like a child. He asked her what had upset her, and she told him, a dream. A dream? Had she been asleep? No, it was a waking dream. She told him exactly what it was. She was with Mr. Urquhart in a horrible place--a dry, sandy place with great rocks in it. "And where did I come in?" "You didn't come in. That was why I called you." "You called for me, did you? But Urquhart was there?" "Yes, I suppose he was still there. I didn't look." "Why did you call for me, Lucy?" "Because I was frightened." "I'm grateful to you for that. That's good news to me," he said; and then when he kissed her again, she opened her eyes very wide, and said, "Oh, James, I thought you didn't care for me any more." James, master of himself, smiled grimly. "I thought as much," he said; "and so you became interested in somebody else?" Lucy sat up. "No," she said, "I became interested in you first." That beat him. "You became interested in _me_? Why? Because I didn't care for you?" "No," she said sharply; "no! Because I thought that you did." James felt rather faint. "I can't follow you. You thought that I didn't, you said?" Lucy was now excited, and full of her wrongs. "How extraordinary! Surely you see? I had reason to think that you cared for me very much--oh, very much indeed; and then I found out that you didn't care a bit more than usual; and then--well, then--" James, who was too apt to undervalue people, did not attempt to pursue the embroilment. But he valued her in this melting mood. He held her very close. "Well," he said, "and now you find that I do care--and what then?" She looked at him, divinely shy. "Oh, if you really care--" This would have made any man care. "Well, if I really do--?" "Ah!" She hid her face on his shoulder. "I shall love to be in Norway." James felt very triumphant; but true to type, he sent her upstairs to dress with the needless injunction to make herself look pretty. Presently, however, he stood up and stared hard at the ground. "Good Lord!" he said. "I wonder what the devil--" Then he raised his eyebrows to their height. "This is rather interesting." * * * * * The instinct was strong in him to make her confess--for clearly there was something to be known. But against that several things worked. One was his scorn of the world at large. He felt that it was beneath him to enquire what that might be endeavouring against his honour or peace. Another--and a very new feeling to him--was one of compassion. The poor girl had cried before him--hidden her face on his shoulder and cried. To use strength, male strength, upon that helplessness; to break a butterfly on a wheel--upon his soul, he thought he couldn't do it.