"She will if any one can," says the doctor. "Of course, I could soon get a locum if there was a chance of mother." And then the conversation supports itself on the possible impossibility of finding a lodging at St. Sennans-on-Sea, and consoles itself with its intense improbability till the doctor finds it necessary to depart with the promptitude of a fire-engine suddenly rung up. He had calculated his time to a nicety, for he met Sally just as "the other two" got safe round the corner. * * * * * "Oh no," said Fenwick, replying to a query; "he doesn't mean to carry it all the way. He'll pick up a cab at the corner." The query was about the violoncello, and Fenwick was coming back to the room where his wife was closing the piano in anticipation of Ann. He had discreetly launched the instrument and its owner under the stars, and left the street door standing wide open--a shallow pretence that he believed Sally already in touch with it. "They _are_ a funny couple," Rosalind said. "Just fancy! They've known each other two years, and there they are! But I do like him. It's all his mother, you know ... what is?... why, goose--of course I mean he would speak at once if it wasn't for that obese mother of his." "But she's so fond of Sally." In reply to this his wife kisses his cheeks, forehead, and chin consecutively, and he says it was right that time, only the other way round. This refers to a system founded on the crossing incident at Rheims. "Of course she is, darling; or pretends she is. But he can neither divorce his mamma nor ask the kitten to marry her. You see?" "I see--in fact, I've thought so myself. In confidence, you know. But is no compromise possible?" Rosalind shakes a slow, regretful, negative head, and her lips form a silent "No!" "Not with her. The woman has her own share of selfishness, and her son's, too. _He_ has none." "But Sally." "I see what you mean. Sally goes to the wall one way if she doesn't the other. So he works out selfish, poor dear fellow! in the end. But, Gerry darling, let me tell you this: you have no idea how impossible that young man thinks it that a girl should love _him_. If he thought it possible the kitten really cared about, or could care about him, he'd go clean off his head. Indeed, I am right." "Perhaps you are. There she is." Sally ran straight upstairs, leaving Ann to close the door. She at once discharged her mind of its burden, _more suo_. "Prosy thinks so, too!" "Thinks what?" "Thinks they'll go and get married one fine morning, whether or no!" But she seemed to be the only one much excited about this. Something was preoccupying the other two minds, and our Sally had not the remotest notion what. * * * * *