The moment she had said it she was afraid that he would do something stupid, look fervent, even seize her hand. But she need not have been afraid. Anthony rose at once. "Oh, do let us have tea," he said; "I am longing for it." Maud's relief was great. "It was stupid of me," she said. "Won't you have a whisky-and-soda? You must be awfully thirsty." "No, I should prefer tea, thanks," he said. "I hate drinks at odd times. How lovely your garden looks!" "Yes; but it's still rather backward. The chestnut-flowers should be out by now, and they are still hardly budding." "How can you remember that?" "Oh, if one takes an interest in things, it is difficult to forget about them," said Maud. "That is perfectly true," remarked Anthony. Soon after tea he left again, and took the white riband of the Bath Road back into London. He could not help telling himself that he had prospered beyond all expectation; and if he had been, as he had told Maud, not hopeless before, he was, it may be supposed, on the sunny side of hope now. But he intended to stop, once and for all, the risk of mismanagement on the part of others, and having reached home he went straight to his mother's room. "I've been down to Windsor," said he, "and I had tea with Maud Brereton--alone." "You haven't got a spark of proper pride, Anthony," said his mother with some heat. "To go dangling and mooning after a girl who's refused you flat! I wonder what she sets up to be!" "I think she sets up to be herself," said Anthony. "It is rather rare. I like it. But I want to manage my own affair in my own way. I particularly wish Lady Brereton not to say a word more of any kind to Maud. I should like you to tell her so if you have an opportunity." "Why, I'm sure she's been as eager as anybody," said Lady Maxwell. "I shall not succeed with her because her mother wishes it," said Anthony. "I'll play my hand alone, please." In London, in the meantime, the fact that Maud had refused him had become generally known, and London, with that admirable substitute for altruism which is so characteristic of it, and consists in vividly concerning one's self with those things that do not in the least concern one, had been very voluble on the subject. There was scarcely any divergence in the views expressed, and everybody was agreed that it was a terrible thing for poor Mildred to find she had for a daughter so obstinate and wrong-headed a girl. "Why, the Maxwells roll, my dear--simply roll! Of course, Maud is wonderfully good-looking, and no doubt lots of other men will be after her, but why not have accepted Anthony provisionally? It is always so easy to let it be understood, if anything else turned up, that a young girl like that hadn't known her own mind----"