He rose from his chair with a heavy sigh, leaving his coffee and brandy untouched. I felt inclined to tell him that in all likelihood he was taking the matter too seriously: he was assuming finality--a difficult thing to assume when Jenny was in the case. He came to me and laid his hand on my shoulder. "They manage 'em better in Africa," he said with a sardonic grin. "Of course I'd no business to say that to her--but hadn't she been trying to draw me all the time? She does it--then she makes a shindy!" "I'll see you a bit on your way," I said. He accepted my offer by slipping his hand under my arm. I opened the door for us to pass out. There stood Chat on the threshold. Octon regarded her with an ill-subdued impatience. Chat was fluttering still. "Oh, Mr. Octon, she's--she's so angry! Might I--oh, might I take a message to her room? She's gone upstairs and forbidden me to follow." "Thank you, but there's no message to take." "If you would just say something----!" "There's no message to take." Again his tone was not rough--it was moody, almost absent: but, as he left Chat behind in her useless agitation, he leaned on my arm very heavily. Though I counted his whole great body as for me less than her little finger, yet a subtle male freemasonry stirred in me. He had behaved very badly--for a man should bear a pretty woman's pin-pricks--yet he was hard hit; all against him as I was, I knew that he was hard hit. Moreover, he had summed up Jenny's procedure pretty accurately. We put on our coats--it was now September--undid the big door, and went out, down the steps, into a clear frosty night. We had walked many yards along the drive before he spoke. At last he said, very quietly-- "You're a good chap, Austin, and I'm sorry I've made a row to-night. Yes, I'm sorry for that. But whether I'm sorry I've been kicked out or not--well, that's a difficult question. My temper--well, sometimes I'm a bit afraid of it." "Oh, that's nothing. You've both got tempers. You'll make it up." He spoke with a calm deliberation unusual with him. "I don't think I'd better," he said. "I don't quite trust myself: I might do something--queer." In my opinion that possibility about him attracted Jenny; but it needed no artificial fostering, and I held my peace. There were electric lights at intervals down the drive: at this moment I could see his face plainly. I thoroughly agreed with what he said and understood his judgment of himself. But it was hard to see him look like that about it. Suddenly--as I still looked--his expression changed. A look of apprehension came over him--but he smiled also, and gripped my arm tightly. A figure walked out of the darkness into the light of the lamp. I recalled how I had found her sitting by my hearth one night--in time to make me recall my resignation. Was she here to make Octon unsay his determination? She came up to us smiling--with no air of surprise, real or affected, and with no explanation of her own presence.