"But he won't make love to her," Lucas answered quietly. "He is drawn by a good woman for the first time in his life, and no harm will come of it. She is one of those women who must run a straight course. There are a few such, born saints, 'of whom the world is not worthy.'" He checked himself with a sudden sigh. "Suppose we get to business, Bertie." "It's all very fine," said Bertie, preparing to comply. "But if Nap ever falls foul of Sir Giles Carfax, he may find that he has bitten off more than he can chew. They say he is on the high road to the D.T.'s. Small wonder that Lady Carfax looks careworn!" Small wonder indeed! Yet as Anne sped along through the sunshine on that winter day she found leisure from her cares to enjoy the swift journey in the great luxurious car. The burden she carried perpetually weighed less heavily upon her than usual. The genial atmosphere of Baronmead had warmed her heart. The few words that Lucas had spoken with her hand in his still echoed through her memory. Yes, she knew where to look for friends; no carping critics, but genuine, kindly friends who knew and sympathised. She thought of Nap with regret and a tinge of anxiety. She was sure he had not intended to let her go without farewell, but she hoped earnestly that he would not pursue her to the Manor to tell her so. And then she remembered his letter; that letter that her husband must have intercepted, recalling his storm of unreasonable fury on the occasion of her last return from Baronmead. He had doubtless read that letter and been inflamed by it. Hating her himself, he yet was fiercely jealous of her friends--these new friends of hers who had lavished upon her every kindness in her time of need, to whom she must always feel warmly grateful, however churlishly he might ignore the obligation. He had raised no definite objection to this present visit of hers. Mrs. Errol had, in her own inimitable fashion, silenced him, but she had known that she had gone against his wish. And it was in consequence of this knowledge that she was returning so early, though she did not expect him back till night. He should have no rational cause for complaint against her. For such causes as his fevered brain created she could not hold herself responsible. It was hard to lead such a life without becoming morbid, but Anne was fashioned upon generous lines. She strove ever to maintain the calm level of reason wherewith to temper the baleful influence of her husband's caprice. She never argued with him; argument was worse than futile. But steadfastly and incessantly she sought by her moderation to balance the difficulties with which she was continually confronted. And to a certain extent she succeeded. Open struggles were very rare. Sir Giles knew that there was a limit to her submission, and he seldom, if ever now, attempted to force her beyond that limit.