"Funny," Rod thought, as he sat on the calk-splintered porch steps watching the smoke curl and weave from the end of a cigarette. "Funny what an atmosphere can do to you. 'Better a dinner of herbs where love is than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.' The ancient wisdom is still wisdom. If Grove can pull off that sort of thing whenever he likes, we'll have to leave Hawk's Nest. There's no defence against it." They rowed home at dusk. Phil had come back. The three of them sat out on the porch and observed the merriment quickening to a livelier tempo as the evening wore on. Phil made no comment for a long time. "One would imagine," he observed at last, rather dryly, "that we three were taboo. We don't seem to be very popular with this crowd." "There's been about thirty hours of this semi-glacial period," Rod informed him. "It's getting old with me." "What about you?" Phil turned to Mary, She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm like the minister when he was kicked by the mule. I consider the source," she said. "Proper attitude," Phil said. "I've been taking notice. I know our elder brother's pleasing little tricks. I wouldn't let it annoy me, sister Mary. Grove often starts things he can't finish. I didn't think he was quite stupid enough for this." The _Kowloon_ departed early Monday morning. Thinking it over as he watched her whip around the Gillard light, Rod decided that honors were easy for the time being. But he very nearly determined to force an open clash if Grove tried to carry it off again. This clash, which Rod foresaw, and which he perhaps subconsciously welcomed, was nearly due. They had Hawk's Nest to themselves, its cool quiet rooms and corridors, the pleasant porches and grounds bright with flowers and scented shrubs, its sweep of velvet lawn and rolling acres of parked forest, where the great trees lifted plumed heads to the sun. Into that blended atmosphere of peace and permanence and beauty no jarring note came until another week-end brought back the _Kowloon_. This time Norquay senior was home. Rod sat back to see if Grove meant to carry on with his design of making Mary's road as rough as lay in his power,--and also to see how their father would take such obvious malice, if it were shown. But Norquay senior missed all the calculated slights Grove and his guests adroitly managed to put on Rod and his wife. It seemed to Rod that they played up to Grove's lead with accomplished skill. It was a new sort of game and Mary Norquay was "It." They found it amusing. Or was it only that they were an ill-bred lot? Rod was not sure of Grove's company, but he was sure of Grove. Grove saw to it, subtly, that Rod should understand what he was driving at. Grove enjoyed the situation. Rod's self-control didn't deceive him. He knew that Rod was fuming inside. He took opportunity to let Rod know that he knew.