She was no sooner gone than Roger turned to Elsbeth, his laughing manner dropped from him like a mask. "It's all off, Elsbeth," he said. "You were right. It's that woman. She's infatuated." The pleasure died out of Elsbeth's face. "I was afraid so," she said. "I saw something had happened. But you were so comical, I couldn't be sure." "I didn't want an explanation just then----" "Of course not," she interpolated hastily. "But I think I'll go straight back to Dene. Have you a time-table?" "Have you quarrelled badly?" "Not exactly! Alwynne's rather annoyed with me, though." "Annoyed? With you?" "Well, you see," he explained, with a touch of amusement, "I think she rather wants to retain me as a tame cat----" "Oh, but Alwynne's not like that," Elsbeth protested. "Don't you think every woman is, if she gets the chance? She has to kow-tow to the Hartill woman, and it would be a relief to have some one to do the same to her--as well as an amusement. But she's had to understand that I won't be her friend's whipping-boy. I decline the post." "Oh,--well, if you put it that way--but it's hardly fair to Alwynne. Of course, you're angry and disappointed----" "I'm not!" he protested heatedly. "Oh, but you are. Don't pretend you're not human. I don't blame you; I'm angry too. But you must be fair. Alwynne's motives are obvious enough. There's no cat-and-mouse business about it. She simply can't bear the idea of losing you." "Yet she won't marry me." "She would, if it weren't for Clare. Didn't you get that impression? Roger, if you really care, wait here a little longer. Stay with us. Let her have a chance of contrasting you with Clare Hartill." "No, I won't," he said obstinately. "You care more for your own dignity than for Alwynne, I think," said Elsbeth, in her lowest voice. "Cousin Elsbeth, I care more for Alwynne than for anything else in the world. You know that. Also, though you'll call me a conceited ass, I believe I know your ewe-lamb ten thousand times better than you do. And I've simply got to sit tight for a bit. The less she sees of me at present, the more she'll think of me--in two senses. If I can make her miss me, it'll be a profitable exile. Oh, you dear, worried woman," he cried, laughing at her intent face, "do you think I want to go away from Alwynne? Nevertheless--where's the time-table?" She rose and fetched it, and gave it him, without a word. He ran his finger down the page. "There's a four o'clock," he announced. "If only I could do something," mused Elsbeth. He smiled at her gratefully. "You're a pretty staunch friend," he said. "What more can one ask?" "Oh, but I ought to think of something," she said impatiently. "I sit here and let you go--I see two people's lives being spoiled--for the want of a----" "What?"