He tormented himself over that demand for his opinion. What did it mean? Were they dissatisfied? Was Kerr mistrustful? had even Theo misgivings? If they had liked him with genuine hearty British liking, would they not have said so? Was this vagueness intentional--'We don't like him, do you?' He knew that flying of the colour into Cynthia's cheeks; he could hear that joyous laugh of hers. He sat on now, thinking of them. She must be happy. Would she be if she had a doubt of this man? She could not be wholly blinded, he must be sterling if she were so happy. Then he was seized by a great longing to see her at once, as soon as she arrived, that he might judge for himself. His restlessness was intolerable. He must walk it off. He would go up to Lafer and hear if they had had a telegram. Had she reached London? When were they coming on? By what train were they to arrive? He saw Mrs. Hennifer. The Admiral was out with one of the woodmen; Mrs. Marlowe was not down; she had been so unnerved by the news that she had not been beyond her dressing-room since. They had heard that Cynthia was to arrive that night. He walked to the window and stood a long while silent. Mrs. Hennifer remained in the middle of the room, also standing. An air of unusual indecision was on her face. She did not know how much she dared say of all that was in her mind. Tremenheere turned at last and looked at her. 'I very much wish to see Cynthia,' he said. 'You must come up to-morrow, or we will drive down.' 'No, neither. I want to see her to-night. Tell the Admiral I'll meet her and put her into the carriage.' 'That will do very well. Mrs. Marlowe can't spare me, and the Admiral is too peremptory in the matter to talk coherently in the carriage.' 'Naturally. I hope he will be gentle with her--you will be at hand, won't you? Some one must meet her too, it would otherwise be so cheerless. Thanks.' He took up his hat and stick, his eyes meanwhile slowly travelling round the room. It was the morning-room, and opening from the drawing-rooms had often been used in their place as being more cosy after dinner in winter. A little bamboo table with a low chair beside it was hers. How often they had played chess together there, or talked, Cynthia with bright silken work in her hands. It was pain to Mrs. Hennifer to see the sadness of his face. He came up and put his hand out. She took it within both her own and looked at him earnestly, her thin angular figure relaxing sufficiently to lean slightly towards him. 'Canon, it may never be a marriage,' she said. 'Never a marriage!' he repeated. 'Dear Mrs. Hennifer, that would, I fear, be a grief to her.' 'She must have been a little hasty.' 'But haste does not always entail mistake.' 'She may discover that she has not known sufficient about him. He is some years older than she. She may eventually see herself that it is not desirable.' 'True. It is possible.'