Tormarin sat down on the opposite side of the hearth and lit a cigarette. The dancing firelight flickered across his face. He was thinner of late, his mother thought with a quick pang. The lines of the well-beloved face had deepened; it had a worn--almost ascetic--look, like that of a man who is constantly contending against something. Lady Anne looked across at him almost beseechingly. “Son,” she said, “have you quite made up your mind to let happiness pass you by?” He started, roused out of the reverie into which he had fallen. “I don’t think I’ve got any say in the matter,” he replied quietly. “I’ve forfeited my rights in that respect. You know that.” “And Jean? Are you going to make her forfeit her rights, too?” “She’ll find happiness--somehow--elsewhere. It would be a very short-lived affair with me”--bitterly. “After what has happened, it’s evident I’m not to be trusted with a woman’s happiness.” There were sounds of arrival in the hall. Nick’s voice could be heard issuing instructions about the bestowal of his fishing tackle. Lady Anne spoke quickly. “I don’t think so, Blaise. Not with the happiness of the woman you love.” She laid her hand on his shoulder as she passed him on her way into the hall to welcome the wanderer returned. “Tell Jean,” she advised, “and see what she says. I think you’ll find she’d be willing to risk it.” When she had left the room Blaise remained staring impassively into the fire. His expression gave no indication as to whether or not Lady Anne’s advice had stirred him to any fresh impulse of decision, and when, presently, his mother and Nick entered the room together, he addressed the latter as casually as though no emotional depths had been stirred by the recent conversation. “Hullo, Nick! Had good sport?” “Only so-so. We had a jolly time, though--out at Het-worthy Bridge. But I had the deuce of a business getting back from Exeter this evening. It was so misty in places we could hardly see to drive the car.” Blaise nodded. “Yes, I know. I found the same. It’s a surprising change in the weather.” “Poor Jean will have had a disappointing trip to Dartmoor,” put in Lady Anne. “The mist is certain to be bad up there.” “Dartmoor? But she didn’t go--surely?” And Nick glanced from one to the other questioningly. “Oh, yes, she did. It was quite clear in the afternoon when she started--looked like being a lovely night.” “But--but----” Nick stammered and came to a halt. There was a look of bewilderment in his eyes. “But who’s she gone with?” he demanded at last. “I thought she said she intended stopping the night with Judith and Burke at their bungalow?” “So she did,” replied Blaise. “Why? Have you any objection?”--smiling. “No. Only”--Nick frowned--“I don’t quite understand it Judith isn’t _on_ the Moor.” “Not on the Moor?” broke simultaneously from Lady Anne and Blaise. “How do you know, Nick?” added the latter gravely.