"All this time," he said, hastily, as if only then realising it, "Doris, whom I left in anger, must be in distress. She must be suffering intensely, for you know she is so very sensitive. I must therefore return to her at once, and must encourage her to hope that all will yet be well. If she will not throw Sinclair over----" "Allow me to remark that you are speaking of _my brother_," interposed Alice. "I beg your pardon," said Bernard, in remorseful tones, as he looked at the kind girl, whose colour had risen. "It was an awful shame for me to speak like that, but----" He broke off, and began again, "I thought we were agreed that she would have to give him up." "That is not the way to put it," said Alice. "My brother, who is really the soul of honour, will have to release Doris from her promise. He must do it--and will, when he knows everything." "Yes, of course. As I was saying, if Doris will not--I beg your pardon, as she cannot in honour release herself, I shall go to Sinclair and tell him that it will be most dishonourable of him if he does not release her from her engagement----" "That won’t do!" exclaimed Alice; "that won’t do at all. If you go to Norman in that spirit you will soon be outside his door again. My brother is a bit of a lion, you know, in more senses than one. He might listen to any one speaking very courteously, but if a bear comes in and tries to get his bone, oh! there _will_ be a pandemonium!" "Well, he must be told----" "I will tell him," said Alice. "I will go to London to-morrow, and will see him and explain everything to him. It will not be a very pleasant task--it will pain me very much to make my brother unhappy, but I will do it for dear Doris and for you." "It is very, _very_ good of you," said Bernard, gratefully, "to say that you will go and explain everything to your brother. Perhaps you will be able to do it in a nicer way than I could." Alice smiled. She certainly thought that was possible. "Norman is very good," she said. "I am sure he will release Doris, but it will be a dreadful sorrow to him, for he loves her very much." "I am sure of that. Though he shouldn’t have come poaching in my preserves!" The last words were uttered so low that he did not intend Alice to hear them. But the girl heard, and instantly retorted: "You forget that was the fault of the person who kept back Doris’s letters and yours, causing her to think that you no longer loved her; so that naturally both she and Norman concluded that she was free to marry whom she pleased." "Yes, of course. You are right. I beg your pardon for forgetting that," said Bernard, penitently. "Now we will return to Doris together, and after we have explained to her how matters stand, we will go and have some tea at the Creamery in Robertson Street. Afterwards----" Alice paused, looking wistfully at him.