Densham leaned over towards them. There was a strange light in his eyes--a peculiar, almost tremulous, earnestness in his tone. "Why should there be any next step at all?" he said. "Let us all drop this ridiculous business. It has gone far enough. I have a presentiment--not altogether presentiment either, as it is based upon a certain knowledge. It is true that these are not ordinary people, and the girl is beautiful. But they are not of our lives! Let them pass out. Let us forget them." Harcutt shook his head. "The man is too interesting to be forgotten or ignored," he said. "I must know more about him, and before many days have passed." Densham turned to the younger man. "At least, Wolfenden," he said, "you will listen to reason. I tell you as a man of honour, and I think I may add as your friend, that you are only courting disappointment. The girl is not for you, or me, or any of us. If I dared tell you what I know, you would be the first to admit it yourself." Wolfenden returned Densham's eager gaze steadfastly. "I have gone," he said calmly, "too far to turn back. You fellows both know I am not a woman's man. I've never cared for a girl in all my life, or pretended to, seriously. Now that I do, it is not likely that I shall give her up without any definite reason. You must speak more plainly, Densham, or not at all." Densham rose from his chair. "I am very sorry," he said. Wolfenden turned upon him, frowning. "You need not be," he said. "You and Harcutt have both, I believe, heard some strange stories concerning the man; but as for the girl, no one shall dare to speak an unbecoming word of her." "No one desired to," Densham answered quietly. "And yet there may be other and equally grave objections to any intercourse with her." Wolfenden smiled confidently. "Nothing in the world worth winning," he said, "is won without an effort, or without difficulty. The fruit that is of gold does not drop into your mouth." The band had ceased to play and the lights went out. Around them was all the bustle of departure. The three men rose and left the room. CHAPTER XII WOLFENDEN'S LUCK To leave London at all, under ordinary circumstances, was usually a hardship for Wolfenden, but to leave London at this particular moment of his life was little less than a calamity, yet a letter which he received a few mornings after the supper at the "Milan" left him scarcely any alternative. He read it over for the third time whilst his breakfast grew cold, and each time his duty seemed to become plainer. "DERINGHAM HALL, NORFOLK.