"I say, come in here a minute," he said, leading the way into his own little smoking-room--Lord John was fatter, scarcely now as rubicund, as shining as he had been--as neat and clean as ever, but there were lines on his forehead, and in his eye, that glance of surprise that had always been there had advanced into one of alarm-- "What the devil is life going to do, what horrible trick is it up to next?" he seemed to say-- "Look here, Christopher," he brought out, when the door was closed. "There's the devil and all to pay. My mother declares this morning that she's going to pay a visit to Roddy!" "Well?" Christopher seemed amused. "But ... Good heavens!" John was aghast--"She hasn't stirred out of her room for thirty years! She ... she ... it'll kill her!" "Oh! no, it won't--" Christopher answered, "not if she really means to do it. Of course she can't walk much--she won't have to--We can get her downstairs, and Roddy's room in York Terrace is on the ground floor--We'll have to see she doesn't catch cold--She'll have to choose a warm day." "She says she's going this afternoon!" said Lord John, still overwhelmed by this amazing development. "Well, to-day won't do any harm----" "Are you sure?" "Quite sure. The danger with your mother has always been to stop her inclinations. Indulge 'em all the time if you can, let her say what she wishes, do what she wishes. If you were to carry her out of doors against her will, why it would do a great deal of harm indeed--but if she wants to go she'll see that she's up to it. It may be the best thing for her. She could have gone out heaps of times in the last thirty years if she'd wished to!" Lord John rubbed his forehead-- "It's a great relief to hear you say that, Christopher. I didn't know how we were going to get out of it. She was so determined this morning----" He broke off--"You're _sure_ it won't do any harm?" he said again. "I'm sure," said Christopher. "There's something," Lord John went on again, "dreadfully on my mother's mind--She seems to feel that, in some way or other, she was responsible for his accident. I can't get at the bottom of it all and of course she won't tell me--she never tells me things. Perhaps you can get at it. I saw Rachel yesterday." "Yes?" "She's very fair about it all. Must be having a very hard time. She was glad to see me, I think, but--" he added a little wistfully--"I've never been anything to her since her marriage. "She just seemed not to want me after that, and I'd been a good deal to her before. When one's getting old, Christopher, we old bachelors, we begin to notice that nobody wants us very much." Christopher looked at him--Yes, John Beaminster had changed in the last year. Had he himself, he wondered, also changed? "Yes," he said, smiling. "But I've been an old bachelor, Beaminster, for years and years and I see no likelihood of your ever being one. You get younger with every year, I believe."