"I suppose so. Yes. I'm afraid I wasn't thinking about it in that light. I was not discussing the position from my mother's point of view, but from--her son's! It would be easier sometimes to deal with a placid old lady who was content with her knitting, and cherished an old- fashioned belief in the superiority of man! Well! let us say the equality. But the mater won't even grant that. By virtue of her superior years she is under the impression that she can still manage my affairs better than I can myself, which, of course, is a profound delusion!" Looking at the firmly cut profile it seemed ridiculous to think of any one managing this man if it were not his will to be managed. Mother and son were alike in possessing an obstinate self-will. A conflict between them would be no light thing. Woman-like, Claire's sympathies leant to the woman's side. "It must be very difficult for a mother to realise that her son is really past her control. And when she _does_, it must be a painful feeling. It isn't painful for the son; it's only annoying. The mother fares worst!" Captain Fanshawe laughed, and looked down at the girl's face with admiring eyes. "What a faculty you have of seeing the other side! Do you always take the part of the person who isn't here? If so, all the better for me this last week, when the mater has been spinning stories of my obstinacy, and pig-headedness, and general contradictiveness. I thought I had better hurry home at once, before you learnt to put me down as a hopeless bad lot!" Claire stood still, staring with widened eyes. "Hurry home--hurry home before--" She stopped short, furious with herself for having taken any notice of the slip, and Erskine gave a short embarrassed laugh, and cried hastily-- "Oh, I knew; of course I knew! The rain was only an excuse. The real reason was that as soon as I knew you were staying here, I hadn't patience to stay on. I stood it for exactly three hours, thinking of you in this garden, imagining walking about as we are walking now, and then--I bolted for the afternoon train!" Claire felt her cheeks flame, and affected dignity to hide her deep, uncontrollable joy. "If _I_ had been your hostess--" "But you weren't, you see... You weren't! For goodness' sake don't put yourself in her place next. Be Claire Gifford for once, and say you are glad to see me!" His eyes met hers and twinkled with humour as he added solemnly. "There's not a single solitary convention that could possibly be broken by being civil to a man in his own home! Even your ultra sensitive conscience--" "Never mind my sensitive conscience. What I want to know is, how did you know? Who told you that I was here?" It was significant that the possibility that Mrs Fanshawe had written of her guest never occurred to Claire's mind; that Erskine like herself discounted such a possibility. He replied with a matter-of-fact simplicity which left Claire marvelling at the obtuseness of mankind--