"I mean just plain cruel. What made you say good night in the way you said it, as if you didn't care if it were good night, or good-bye, or good riddance?" "'Good night' to whom? I spoke to Mrs. Cartwright; she was the one who mattered," Olwen said a little defensively. "All those other people from the Honeycomb----well, I wanted to get away with you, and I see _them_ every day." "And are '_they_' all the same to you?" "Of course," said Olwen in a resigned voice, "you _mean_ Captain Ross." "Certainly I didn't mean your little Major Leefe, who talks as if it hurt him, not your young sailor-boy, who loves to laugh." "Well, I see Captain Ross every day, and I expect he thinks that's far too much." Golden's reply was a soft laugh. "Oh, you British, you are the funniest things! Either you want to grab a thing before you take another breath, or else you wait staring at it until you can't see it!----Why, Olwen, that man's crazy about you." "Not he!" returned Olwen, decidedly, and with another sort of laugh--a slightly bitter one. For she had just remembered that this was the second time some one had thought this thing. She heard again the mercilessly shrewd voice of that French manageress at Les Pins. "_Monsieur le Capitaine, he with the one arm, who admires Mademoiselle._" She, Olwen, had actually been silly enough to believe it, then. She didn't believe it now; how could she? Did she have any reason? Those Fridays were the only time she saw him to speak to, and even those, as he'd practically pointed out to her, were the purest accident. The rest of the time--she laughed again. "My _dear_ Golden, if you could _only_ see him at the Honeycomb!" And there seemed to resound in her mind echoes of Captain Ross's voice at the Honeycomb--or were they echoes of Mrs. Newton's mimicries of Captain Ross? "Hullo--yes?" curtly down the telephone in his office where Olwen had come for instructions. "Yes; Miss Howel-Jones _is_ working on the Honeycomb. You will find her number in room 0369----" Then, in an iron tone to Olwen, "Miss Howel-Jones, I should be glad if you would give your _correct_ telephone number to any friends whom you wish to ring you up...." And so on. Was that the manner of a man who cares? More echoes were broken in upon by the gentler voice of Golden. "I don't need to see him at any Honeycomb. I saw it in one, at the Eagle Hut. If he's different in the office, why, that's his fine sense of duty, and you ought to like him for that.... Jack thinks a deal of Captain Ross. So does Mrs. Cartwright, and she's a real, intelligent woman. Why, do you know, just before Captain Ross came on to the meeting tonight, your little friend Mrs. Newton said something about him; I think she likes to make fun of him a little. Mrs. Cartwright said, quite quietly, '_I have a great affection for Captain Ross!_'