"But really now, don't you think your sister did her share of the flirting, and that she's rather an old hand at that kind of thing? I adore Dop and Mop, as I'm sure you know, and I only wish I were rich enough to back my opinion by marrying one of them--but I don't think our dear little Dopsy is the kind of girl to break her heart about any man--more especially a sentimental duffer with hollow cheeks and a hollow cough." "Just the kind of man to interest a warm-hearted girl. No more claret! Well, I suppose we may as well go to roost." CHAPTER XII. "AND TIME IS SETTING WI' ME, O." Angus Hamleigh left the billiard players with the intention of going straight to his own room; but in the hall he encountered the Rector of Trevalga, who was just going away, very apologetic at having stayed so late, beguiled by the fascination of antiquarian talk. Christabel and Jessie had come out to the hall, to bid their old friends good-night, and thus it happened that Mr. Hamleigh went back to the drawing-room, and sat there talking till nearly midnight. They sat in front of the dying fire, talking as they had talked in days gone by--and their conversation grew sad and solemn as the hour wore on. Angus announced his intended departure, and Christabel had no word to say against his decision. "We shall be very sorry to lose you," she said, sheltering her personality behind the plural pronoun, "but I think it is wise of you to waste no more time." "I have not wasted an hour. It has been unspeakable happiness for me to be here--and I am more grateful than I can say to your husband for having brought me here--for having treated me with such frank cordiality. The time has come when I may speak very freely--yes--a man whose race is so nearly run need have no reserves of thought or feeling. I think, Mrs. Tregonell, that you and Miss Bridgeman, who knows me almost as well as you do----" "Better, perhaps," murmured Jessie, in a scarcely audible voice. "Must both know that my life for the last four years has been one long regret--that all my days and hours have been steeped in the bitterness of remorse. I am not going now to dispute the justice of the sentence which spoiled my life and broke my heart. I submitted without question, because I knew that the decree was wise. I had no right to offer you the ruin of a life----" "Do not speak of that," cried Christabel, with a stifled sob, "for pity's sake don't speak of the past: I cannot bear it."