All at once Mavis roused herself, or rather, seemed to be roused involuntarily by some inward sensation--perhaps an ugly and unexpected turn that her thoughts had suddenly taken. She gave a little shiver, looked across the table at the visitor as if surprised at his presence, and then began to talk to him volubly. "Do you know this part of the world? It's a pretty country--especially the forest side. Lots of artists and photographers come here on purpose to take the views." For a little while she and Mr. Ridgett chatted gaily together; and Dale observed, not without satisfaction, that the deputy patently admired Mavis. "Yes," he thought, "it must be an eye-opener for him or anybody else to come up those stairs and find a postmaster's wife with all the education and manners of a lady, and as pretty as a bunch of primroses into the bargain." And indeed little Mr. Ridgett was fully susceptible to Mavis' varied charms. He liked her complexion--so unusually white; he liked her hair--such a lot of it; he liked the mobility of her lips, the fineness and straightness of her nose; and he also greatly liked the broad black ribbon that was tied round her slender neck. The simple decoration seemed curiously in harmony with something childlike pertaining to its wearer. He did not attempt to analyze this characteristic, but he felt it plainly--something that drew its components from voice, expression, gesture, and that as a whole carried to one a message of extreme youth. And how fond of her husband! The anxiety for his welfare that she had shown just now quite touched a soft spot in Mr. Ridgett's dryly official heart. "You know," said Dale, interrupting the conversation, and speaking as though the subject that occupied his own mind was still under debate, "they can't pretend but what I warned them. I said it's madness to go and put the instruments anywhere but the place I've marked on the plan. If they'd listened to my words _then_--" "Ah, there you are again," said Mr. Ridgett. "The personal equation!" "Where's the personality of it?" "I'll tell you. London isn't Rodchurch. What you said--how many years ago?--isn't going to govern the judgment of people who never heard you say it." "It ought to have gone on record. It _is_ on record over at Rodhaven." "London isn't Rodhaven either." Then once again the talk became serious; and once again Ridgett saw in Mrs. Dale's white face, trembling fingers, and narrowed eyes, the deadly anxiety that she was suffering. With that face opposite to one, it would have been monstrously cruel not to offer the wisest and best considered advice that one could anyhow produce. "Here's _verb. sap_," he said solemnly. "_Ultimatum_, and _ne plus ultra_. I'm giving you Latin for Latin, Mr. Dale. I understand your attitude, and I appreciate its bearing; but I say to you, the best causes sometimes need the best advocates." "Yes!" Mavis drew in her breath with a little gasp.