By the afternoon Miss Carrington had regained her self-command, and with it her usual cunning. It was notorious that love was whetted by opposition; she must try in some other way to circumvent Kit. She discussed the situation with Helen Abercrombie, who heartlessly laughed at her. “Try everything you can think of, Miss Carrington! By all means see Anne Dallas and convey to her the harm she’d do Kit if she married him against your will; that you can punish him roundly. But it’s my candid opinion that you would do yourself less harm lying down and reading a problem novel, and just as much affect Kit’s silly determination. The conclusion I’ve reached during this visit in regard to Kit is that he knows his own mind,” Helen said. Nevertheless, Miss Carrington summoned Minerva to array her in her most impressive calling costume, and to order Noble to have the car around at half-past four that she might solicitously inquire after Anne Dallas’s welfare, having heard that she was not well. “No kind of use in it, Miss Carrington,” Minerva remarked, getting down to lace her mistress’s shoes. She did not specify what was useless, but Miss Carrington was depressed by this identity of view on the part of two such keen women as Helen and Minerva. On the way to Antony Paul’s house Miss Carrington met Edwin Wilberforce walking alone toward the station. She bade Noble stop, and greeted the artist cordially. “Delighted you are here, Mr. Wilberforce! I am anxious about Mr. Latham. Won’t you get in?” she said. “No, thanks. I’m going down to look up some canvases I sent ahead; they ought to be here. I hope you are well, Miss Carrington?” “Not altogether. I am too old to be bothered, and I am bothered.” Miss Carrington spoke with an effect of involuntary frankness. “My foolish nephew is troubling me, has fixed his silly will on a poor girl. Mr. Latham also was attracted by her, and for him she would have been excellent. He needs just her patient devotion; she is sweet and refined in manner. But Kit has his name to make; Mr. Latham’s name would cover his wife’s lack. I believe you recommended this girl to our poet. She’s a nice little creature, but a penniless, nameless wife would be a fatal mistake for Kit.” Edwin Wilberforce was regarding the old lady with an expression that she was too engrossed to see. When she paused he laughed and said: “Oh, well, I’m prejudiced, but I think Wilberforce is not a bad name.” Miss Carrington stared at the irrelevancy of this remark. “But surely! Who could doubt it? Not only in itself, but when borne by a famous artist! However, I really can’t see what that has to do with Anne Dallas and my troubles.” This time Wilberforce stared. Then he laughed, and said: “Oh, don’t you? That’s rather good fun, Miss Carrington! But Dallas is a good name, too, though if your nephew married Miss Dallas the honourable name of Carrington would engulf it.”