'Then he'll find I've forgotten _him_. Oh, why am I so unhappy?' 'You're too emotional, but you'll be happy through that too. Please don't make your eyes red. There are other people in the world. Cecil Reeve--' 'And yet there's something so fascinating about him. He's so unlike anybody else.' 'Bosh!' said Anne. 'He's exactly like thousands of other young men. But it just happens you've taken a fancy to him; that's the only thing that makes him different.' 'I hate him,' said Hyacinth. 'Do you dislike him, Anne?' 'Dislike him?' said Anne, turning out one of the lights. 'No, indeed! I loathe him!' 'But why?' Anne went to the door. 'Because you're a fool about him,' she said somewhat cryptically. Hyacinth felt somewhat soothed, and resolved to think no more of Cecil Reeve. She then turned up the light again, took her writing materials, and wrote him three long letters, each of which she tore up. She then wrote once more, saying-- 'DEAR MR REEVE, 'I shall be at home today at four. Do come round and see me.' She put it under her pillow, resolving to send it by a messenger the first thing in the morning, and went to sleep. But this letter, like the others, was never sent. By the morning light she marvelled at having written it, and threw it into the fire. CHAPTER XI The Troubles of the Ottleys 'Bruce', said Edith, 'you won't forget we're dining with your people tonight?' 'It's a great nuisance.' 'Oh, Bruce!' 'It's such an infernally long way.' 'It's only to Kensington.' 'West Kensington. It's off the map. I'm not an explorer--I don't pretend to be.' He paused a moment, then went on, 'And it's not only the frightful distance and the expense of getting there, but when I do get there.... Do you consider that my people treat me with proper deference?' 'With proper _what?_' asked Edith. 'Deference. I admit I like deference. I need it--I require it; and at my people's--well, frankly, I don't get it.' 'If you need it,' said Edith, 'I hope you will get it. But remember they are your father and mother.' 'What do you mean by that?' 'Well, I mean they know you very well, of course ... and all that.' 'Do you imply...?' 'Oh, no, Bruce dear,' she answered hastily; 'of course I don't. But really I think your people are charming' 'To _you_ I know they are,' said he. 'It's all very well for you. They are awfully fond of _you_. You and my mother can talk about Archie and his nurse and housekeeping and fashions, and it's very jolly for you, but where's the fun for a man of the world?' 'Your father--' began Edith. 'My father!' Bruce took a turn round the room. 'I don't mind telling you, Edith, I don't consider my father a man of the world. Why, good heavens! when we are alone together, what do you suppose he talks about? He complains! Finds fault, if you please! Says I don't work--makes out I'm extravagant! Have _you_ ever found me extravagant?' 'No, indeed. I'm sure you've never been extravagant--to _me_.'