"There's one blessing," said Vernley, slowly squeezing out some tooth-paste onto his brush, "we shan't be worried by that swine here any more. He always made me sick. I wish I could generate a good hate like Tod's." "Tod always did dislike him, didn't he?" "Yes. Good night, Scissors." "Good night." John did not sleep for a long time. He lived over that dreadful episode in the drawing-room. Was Mrs. Graham sleeping now? Perhaps she was crying, and women hated crying, for it made their eyes red, and betrayed them in the morning. It would be awkward at breakfast to meet her as though nothing had happened. Still he looked forward to doing so. They were friends, she trusted him--that pressure on his hand told him so. Then he wondered if Crimp was asleep down at the Vicarage. Probably the beast was snoring now--he looked like a man who could snore, with those horrible protruding teeth. Then he fell asleep, and when he woke again Vernley was sitting on his chest. "You've been snoring," said Vernley. "I haven't," denied John indignantly. "I couldn't, I don't know how to." "But I've heard you in my room--you woke me." "That proves I haven't, I should have woked myself first," said John with a fine disregard of grammar. "I'm a lighter sleeper than you." "You've been dreaming, I'm sure." "Well, I have--of old Crimp," confessed John. "That accounts for the snoring. Hurry up, the first gong's gone." Downstairs, Muriel was the first to meet John. "Mrs. Graham's going," she told him. "Isn't it a shame?" "Going?--what, now?" "No, soon after breakfast. She told Mother she couldn't stay. Of course she knows we're all sympathetic and all that, but she says she finds sympathy as hard to endure as the other things. There are always scenes like this wherever she goes, and she doesn't intend ever going out again. I'm dreadfully sorry for her." "So am I, but Muriel, we mustn't show it; we must pretend nothing's happened. Let's joke with her at breakfast." They went in together. Mrs. Graham was there, and she was not red-eyed. Indeed, to John, she seemed more beautiful than ever. She talked wittily to them all, and Muriel and John found their desperate resolution quite unnecessary. After breakfast they all walked round the grounds. Mrs. Graham was leaving in half an hour. To his delight John found himself walking with her down the rhododendron drive. "I'm so sorry you're going, Mrs. Graham," he said. "That's kind of you, Scissors--may I call you Scissors?" she asked, smiling at him. "Oh, please!" he answered. "And I hope," she added, "this will not be our last meeting. If ever you come up to town, and would care, you must call at my little flat. I will give you my address." She opened her chatelaine and extracted a card. John took it. "I should love to, Mrs. Graham--when the next holidays come--will you be in town then?"