"You were both silent _and_ disagreeable," said Arnold, smiling. "Do you mind being disagreeable again, and telling me what your answer would have been?" "Simply that I never, if I can help it, talk about weddings and rumours of weddings, and that I couldn't make an exception in your case." Arnold laughed in the old way. "A most original rule, Miss Derwent, and admirable. If all kept to it I shouldn't have been annoyed by that silly chatter. It occurs to me that I perhaps ought not to have sent you that note. I did it in a moment of irritation--wanting to have the stupid thing contradicted right and left, as fast as possible. I won't do it again." They were on excellent terms once more. Irene felt a singular pleasure in his having apologised; it was one of the very rare occasions of his yielding to her on any point whatever. Never had she felt so kindly disposed to him. Arnold was going to Paris, and on business; he hinted at something pending between his Company and a French Syndicate. "You are a sort of informal diplomatist," said Irene, her interest keen. "Now and then, yes. And"--he added with the frankness which was one of his more amiable points--"I rather like it." "One sees that you do. Better, I suppose, than the thought of going into Parliament." "That may come some day," he answered, glancing at a gull that hovered above the ship. "Not whilst my father sits there." "You would be on different sides, I suppose." Arnold smiled, and went on to say that he was uneasy about his father's health. John Jacks had fallen of late into a habit of worry about things great and small, as though age were suddenly telling upon him. He fretted over public affairs; he suffered from the death of old friends, especially that of John Bright, whom he had held in affectionate regard for a lifetime. Irene was glad to hear this expression of anxiety. For it sometimes seemed to her that Arnold Jacks had little, if any, domestic feeling. She wished they could have travelled further together. Their talks were always broken off too soon, just when she began to get a glimpse of characteristics still unknown to her. On the journey she thought constantly of him; not with any sort of tender emotion, but with much curiosity. It would have gratified her to know what degree of truth there was in that rumour of his engagement a month ago; some, undoubtedly, for she had noticed a peculiar smile on the faces of persons who alluded to it. His apparent coldness towards women in general might be natural, or might conceal mysteries. So difficult a man to know! And so impossible to decide whether he was really worth knowing!