She did not answer, but obeyed. Burning and shaking to her very bones she vanished and slammed the door behind her; then she leapt into her bed and huddled under the clothes in a fury. But she did not hate herself long; she hated Kellock. It took Medora till five o’clock in the morning to cool down. An incident contributed to return of calm, because, after she had left him, the man turned on his electric light—she saw it under the door. And apparently he kept it on. She could also hear him walking about. It was clear therefore that she had disturbed him a good deal. “I wonder he didn’t turn over and go to sleep again,” she reflected bitterly. It was long before she forgave him. “Even if he didn’t want me, he oughtn’t to have said so,” reflected Medora. “He ought to have pretended he was glad. To send me away like a naughty school child after all I’ve done for him!” She determined that he must be punished and decided that she would not get up at all next day, but stop in her room and pretend to be ill. And in a thousand other ways she would punish him also. He should see that she could be as frosty as he. Indeed he had frozen her effectually now. And she told herself that it would be a very long time before she thawed again. She slept heavily at last, and when she was called, found that her will to hit back had weakened. By daylight she perceived that nothing was to be gained in quarrelling with Jordan. He had said that he would explain in the morning and she felt it would be better to hear him. She smouldered still and resented her experience extremely; but she was ready when he knocked at her door and they went down to breakfast together. CHAPTER XIII IN LONDON Jordan Kellock made no allusion whatever to Medora’s nocturnal aberration as they ate together, but directed her as to his taste in tea and was very anxious to know her own likes and dislikes in matters of food. “I’ll write final copies of my letters,” he said, “then we’ll go out and get the ring.” Could it be possible, she wondered, that a ring made any difference to his mind? It seemed too childish; yet even the cleverest men retained a streak of the boy. It was from the eternal boy, as exemplified in Ned, that she had escaped. Was Kellock going to be boyish also? He had never shown any sign of it. She need not have feared. He did not ask Medora to read the letters to Mr. Trenchard and Ned Dingle; but he had finished them and posted them by ten o’clock and then they set out. He knew London and took Medora to the British Museum first. She had waited for him to speak about the previous night, while he, apparently, expected her to do so. She had changed her views as to his punishment and believed that she had quite forgiven him. But this was not the case and before the end of the day he found it out.