If there were suspicious wet eyelashes when Miss Wych came back, she had at least by that time got herself in hand, as well as got rid of her habit. She came in noiseless and grave and quiet, in a soft shimmering rustle of deep red silk, and held out her hand again. 'You should not have stirred out, such a cold day,' she said. 'But come into the other room; it is warmer there.' Dane had not sat down, he was standing watching for her; and now drew her within his arms again, in a seeming ignoring of her invitation. 'Have you been a good child all these weeks?' 'No.' 'Wherein not?' 'Primrose would have settled composedly down, and been happy in obeying orders. I wasn't a bit.' 'People are not all good after the same fashion,' said Dane laughing, holding her fast and looking at her. 'My little Wych was not happy, nor submissive—but obeyed orders nevertheless.' 'No,' said Wych Hazel slowly, 'I am not sure that I did. I had said I would keep away if I could—and I remembered how you might look at me if I went. So it was better to stay and die quietly at home.' 'Is that the footing on which we are to live in the future?' said Dane laughing and kissing her. He evidently was rather in a gay mood. For all answer, Hazel drew him across the hall to the dining room, and sounding her whistle began to make preparations for tea; with a speed and energy before which Dingee flew round like a cat. Then, dismissing him, Hazel crossed over with soft steps to the side of the lounge and stood there a moment, looking down, searching out the traces of illness and fatigue. Dane was paler and thinner certainly than he had been two months before. But his colour was the colour of health, and his gray eye had certainly suffered from no faintness. It was very bright now as it met hers, and he sprang up. 'Nothing ails me,' he said. 'I am only tired with twelve miles in Arthur's buggy. You will have no doubt how I am, when you see how much work I mean to do before I go away.'