He said good-bye to her, laughingly declaring that after all he would prepare a catalogue, and send it to her by post. Then he went into the house, to find Vivien and pay another farewell. Left alone, Isobel rose from her chair with an abrupt and impatient movement. She was a woman of feelings not only more mature but far stronger than Vivien's; she had ambitious yearnings which never crossed Vivien's simple soul. But she was stern with herself. Perhaps she had caught and unconsciously copied some of Wellgood's anti-sentimental attitude. She often told herself that the feelings were merely dangerous and the yearnings silly. Yet when others seemed tacitly to accept that view, made no account of her, and assumed to regard her place in life as settled, she glowed with a deep resentment against them, crying that she would make herself felt. To-day she knew that somehow, to some degree however small, she had made herself felt by Harry Belfield. The discovery could not be said to bring pleasure, but it brought triumph--triumph and an oppressive restlessness. Wellgood strolled out of the house and joined her. "Where's Harry?" he asked. "He went into the house to say good-bye to Vivien; or perhaps he's gone altogether by now." Wellgood stood in thought, his hands in his pockets. "He's a bit inclined to be soft, but I think we shall make a man of him. He's got a great chance, anyhow. Vivien seems to like him, doesn't she?" "Oh, everybody must!" She smiled at him. "Are you thinking of match-making, like a good father?" "She might do worse, and I'd like her to marry a man we know all about. The poor child hasn't backbone to stand up for herself if she happened on a rascal." Isobel had a notion that Wellgood was over-confident if he assumed that he, or they, knew all about Harry Belfield. His parentage, his position, his prospects--yes. Did these exhaust the subject? But Wellgood's downright mind would have seen only "fancies" in such a suggestion. "If that's the programme, I must begin to think of packing up my trunks," she said with a laugh. He did not join in her laugh, but his stern lips relaxed into a smile. "Lots of time to think about that," he told her, his eyes seeming to make a careful inspection of her. "Nutley would hardly be itself without you, Isobel." She showed no sign of embarrassment under his scrutiny; she stood handsome and apparently serene in her composure. "Oh, poor Nutley would soon recover from the blow," she said. "But I shall be sorry to go. You've been very kind to me." "You've done your work very well. People who work well are well treated at Nutley; people who work badly--" "Aren't exactly petted? No, they're not, Mr. Wellgood, I know." "You'd always do your work, whatever it might be, well, so you'd always be well treated." "At any rate you'll give me a good character?" she asked mockingly.