"No. You imply that I'm a very blind and foolish guardian! My dear boy," her pretty voice shook a little, "I've hoped and prayed for this. You, John's boy, and--and dear Rosemary's, of course--and Alwynne, who's dearer to me than a daughter! Why, that's why I sent her down to Dene!" She blushed the rare blush of later middle age. "Oh, my dear--it was shameless! I was matchmaking! I was! And I've always considered it so indelicate. But I wished so strongly that you two might come together. When Alwynne wrote of you so often, I hoped: and then your letters made me sure. You had got on so well without me these twenty-five years--and then to feel the ties of kinship so very strongly all of a sudden--it was transparent, Roger." He laughed. "I hadn't forgotten really--though it's the vaguest memory. You gave me a rabbit in a green cabbage that opened. And one Sunday we shared Prayer Books. You had a blue dress--a pale blue that one never sees nowadays, and very pink cheeks." "Ah! the _crêpe de Chine_," said Elsbeth absently. "I always remembered--though I'd forgotten I did. Alwynne brought it back. She's like you in some ways, you know. She made me awfully curious to see you again. From the way she talked I knew you'd be decent to me." He smiled. "Elsbeth--I'm tremendously in love." "Have you told her so?" "Alwynne's rather difficult to get hold of. She doesn't understand anything but black and white." "Clare Hartill--I suppose you've heard of Clare Hartill?" "Have I not!" "Clare Hartill says she has an uncanny ear for nuances." "Also that she's thick-skinned! The woman's a fool." "Oh, she's quite right, Roger, though I expect she was in a temper when she said it. But it only means that Alwynne has been trained to listen to women. She can't follow men yet. She has been advised that they are grown-up children and that her rôle is to be superior but tactful." He chuckled. "Yes. When Alwynne's tactful--she's tactful! You can't mistake it, can you? Have you ever seen her sidling out of a room when she thought she wasn't wanted? Still, she can hold her own, on occasion. She simply walked through my hints. But--how does she talk of me, Elsbeth, if she does at all, that is?" "She likes you, in the 'good old Roger' fashion." "But you do think I have a chance?" "That's why I wanted to see you. Frankly, at present I don't think you have." He looked at her coolly, not at all depressed. "Why not?" "Clare Hartill." "Ah!" He sat down at the table again, his chin in his fist. "You think her the obstacle?" "I taught her once. Alwynne has been absorbed in her for two years. Alwynne talks----" they both smiled. "I could compare. I ought to know her pretty well."