"It bears a close relationship to many another young woman's story, I wager," said Sir John with a smile. "Truly, I was not much impressed with her. If I may be allowed to speak a word of warning, I should say beware of her. She could lie easily, I fancy, with never a blush or the flicker of an eyelid to betray her. No, it was not about her I wished to see you." "Then, sir, I cannot guess," said Barbara. "I wished to apologise," said Sir John. "As I grow older my ill temper gains on me, I fear. Thwarted, I am senseless enough at times to become like a bullying schoolboy, and I say the first outrageous things which come to my tongue--conduct worthy only of a harridan. It was so that night at Aylingford. You were entirely right, I was entirely wrong. Forgive me, Barbara." "I forgive, yes, but you must not expect me to forget so readily," she answered. "Forgetfulness can only come with time, Sir John, you must understand that." "Perfectly. I do not expect to enjoy the luxury of being ill-tempered without having to pay the price for it. I only ask that you may not make the price too heavy. When you choose to return to the Abbey you shall find a welcome." Sir John did not wait for any answer, nor had Barbara the opportunity of thinking over what he had said just then, for the moment her uncle left her another claimed her attention. Still Sydney Fellowes watched her. It was evidently not her uncle for whom she had been waiting. It seemed as evident that she was doomed to disappointment to-night. Fellowes was one of the last to leave, and it was impossible that any other guest could arrive now.