“I’m as bad as Trimblett,” said Robert at last. “I am beginning to believe in fate. It is my firm opinion that we were intended for each other. I can’t imagine marrying anybody else, can you?” Miss Hartley, still looking down, made no reply. “Silence gives consent,” said Robert, and leaning forward took her hands again. CHAPTER XXV ROBERT VYNER walked home slowly, trying as he went to evolve a scheme which should in the first place enable him to have his own way, and, in the second to cause as little trouble as possible to everybody. As a result of his deliberations he sought his father, whom he found enjoying a solitary cup of tea, and told him that he had been to Hartley’s with the news of Captain Trimblett’s illness. He added casually that Mrs. Trimblett was looking remarkably well. And he spoke feelingly of the pleasure afforded to all right-minded people at being able to carry a little sympathy and consolation into the homes of the afflicted. Mr. Vyner senior sipped his tea. “She has got her father and the children if she wants sympathy,” he said gruffly. Robert shook his head. “It’s not quite the same thing,” he said gravely. “The children ought to be with her,” said his father. “I never understood why they should have gone to Mrs. Chinnery; still that’s not my affair.” “It was to assist Mrs. Chinnery for one thing,” said Robert. “And besides they were awfully in the way.” He heard his father put his tea-cup down and felt, rather than saw, that he was gazing at him with some intentness. With a preoccupied air he rose and left the room. Satisfied with the impression he had made, he paid another visit to Hartley’s on the day following and then, despite Joan’s protests, became an almost daily visitor. His assurance that they were duty visits paid only with a view to their future happiness only served to mystify her. The fact that Hartley twice plucked up courage to throw out hints as to the frequency of his visits, and the odd glances with which his father favoured him, satisfied him that he was in the right path. For a fortnight he went his way unchecked, and, apparently blind to the growing stiffness of his father every time the subject was mentioned, spoke freely of Mrs. Trimblett and the beautiful resignation with which she endured her husband’s misfortunes. His father listened for the most part in silence, until coming at last to the conclusion, that there was nothing to be gained by that policy he waited until his wife had left the dining-room one evening and ventured a solemn protest. “She is a very nice girl,” said the delighted Robert, in a sullen voice. “Just so,” said his father, leaning toward a candle and lighting his cigar, “although perhaps that is hardly the way to speak of a married woman.” “And we have been friends for a long time,” said Robert. Mr. Vyner coughed dryly. “Just so,” he said again. “Why shouldn’t I go and see her when I like?” said Robert, after a pause.