Reynold, as he spoke, had been thinking how strange it was that people should excite themselves about their plans for the future. What child's play and chance it all was! You dreamed, and schemed, and worked it all out, you made allowance for everything except what was really going to happen, and suddenly it was all over, and there was nothing more to be said or done. Here, for instance, was Mitchelhurst Place blown away like a bubble! Possibly, somewhere, there might be found something in the shape of a house, a certain quantity of stone and timber, set on the face of the earth and called by that name, but had Reynold been opposite the gate at that moment he would have looked at it with indifference. _His_ Mitchelhurst Place, the one he had thought about so much, the one he meant to give the best years of his life to win, was, it now appeared, a house of cards. Barbara and he had been mightily interested in setting it up, and really it had been a very lofty and presentable edifice, till Barbara forgot to put a letter in the post, and so it all tumbled down in a minute. It was a pity, certainly. "Tell me the truth," said the girl's voice again, with its soft accent of entreaty. "But you won't believe me! I tell you again, Miss Strange, it doesn't matter a bit. And again, if you like! And again!" She looked fixedly at him, and stretched out her hand towards the letters. "Very well," she said. "Shall I post these for you as I go back?" He brought down his tilted chair with sudden emphasis, and sprang up. "No!" He had lost all, but at least his pride was safe. His mother and old Mr. Harding need never learn how nearly they had had their way. He knew what deadly offence he had given by the silence which would be taken for a calculated insult, but he would a thousand times rather face their anger than appeal to their pity with a lame story of a letter delayed. Besides, it was too late. Old Harding was a man of his word, the place was filled up, the chance was gone. "No!" cried Reynold. "There!" the girl exclaimed. "I knew it! I saw your face when you looked at the letters first--and now again! You do not choose to tell me what I have done. Very well, why don't you say so at once? You treat me as if I were a baby!" Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth quivered, she looked childishly ready to cry.