He went back to his papers. "Very well. Then there is nothing more to be said." Faith left him without another word. She was blind with passion as she went up to her room. She would never have believed it possible for jealousy to get such a grip of her emotions. She had believed that she hated Forrester, and it crushed her to the earth with shame to realize that now he no longer wanted her she loved him with all her heart and soul. Later, down in the drawing-room, she slipped a note into Digby's hand as they went in to dinner. He had no chance to read it then, but later when the two girls had left him to smoke with Forrester he found a moment. There were only two hurriedly scribbled lines. "I said no this afternoon when you asked me to come away with you. I have changed my mind; if you still want me I will come.--FAITH." Peter Digby crushed the little note in his hand and looked guiltily across at his friend. But Forrester had noticed nothing; he seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, and Digby rose to his feet with a little sigh of relief. "Well, shall we join the ladies?" he asked. Forrester raised his eyes. "By all means, you go. I must go out again." He looked at his watch. "Go out?" Digby echoed. "My dear chap, at this time of night?" But he was unutterably relieved. Forrester's absence would make things so much more simple. "Yes, I must go down to Heeler's again. I'm afraid there's going to be serious trouble there. I don't like the look of things at all." Digby frowned. "Why don't you cut the whole show?" he asked. "With your money you don't want to waste time bothering about a business like that. Sell it and clear out. I should, if I were in your place." "No, you wouldn't; and I'm not going to, anyway. If they think they can scare me into running away they're mistaken. A handful of loafers!" The Beggar Man looked almost ugly in his obstinacy and contempt, and Digby shrugged his shoulders and turned towards the door. "Well, you know your own business best, of course," he said. "But if I were you I'd cut the worry and start enjoying myself." Forrester did not answer; there was a strange look in his eyes as he watched his friend leave the room. He knew well enough what was going on beneath his very eyes. He had known before that afternoon when Peg tried to warn him, and he was amazed because he cared so little. In a way, it was almost a relief to know that perhaps before long the strain of the past weeks would be lifted. Even the violence of a final snap would be preferable to the constant nerve racking uncertainty he had been suffering. Disappointment and bitterness had set a wall about his heart, and he told himself as he looked after Digby's retreating figure that he did not care what happened. Faith would go if she wanted to. Well, let her! He would not lift a finger to detain her.