Movement was evidently in the air; perhaps it was caused by the bright, spring days which had replaced the former gloom. Pat on his bed discussed a possible holiday before returning to work. "It might hurry things," he said. "What do you say, Pixie, seaside or country? Must go somewhere where there's something to _do_! Winter garden, concerts, bands, people to look at. I want to be amused. We'll have a week somewhere, and blow expense. You might come too, Glynn, and bring the car." Glynn was sitting in his usual place beside the fire; Bridgie was by the bed; Pixie prone on the hearthrug. During the last few days the invalid had been sufficiently strong to enjoy the society of his fellows, had even called upon Pixie to sing, and had apparently greatly enjoyed the hearing, though Bridgie seemed for once unappreciative, and had discouraged further efforts. Now his mind had turned on to holidays, and he had made this direct appeal to Stephen, which seemed to find scant favour from two out of the three hearers. Bridgie frowned, and stared at the carpet; Stephen's pale face showed a discomfited flush. "You shall have the car with pleasure. It shall take you wherever you decide to go, and be at your service for as long as you please, but for myself, I must get home. I--I am not usually in town for so long at a time. There are several things waiting attention which should not be delayed. I must get back..." There was a dead silence, while each one of the three hearers realised the futility of the excuse. Stephen's estate was in the hands of a capable agent: an extra week's absence could make little difference; moreover, previous statements had made it plain that he had originally intended to stay for some considerable time in town. Plain, therefore, as print, and impossible to misunderstand was the fact that he did not _want_ to accompany his friends on their holiday; that in addition he did not for the moment desire more of their company in town. Bridgie raised her head: she was smiling, a bright, unaffected, _relieved-looking_ smile. "There's no end to the work on a big estate. The Major--my father--used to say that every man was his own best bailiff, though he made a fine muddle of it himself, poor darling! But my brother Jack agrees with him. He's educated Miles to look after the Irish property, and so does Geoffrey Hilliard. ... It's true he is away half his time--" At the best of times Bridgie was scarcely a special pleader, and to-day she seemed no sooner to make a statement than she contradicted it straight away. She mumbled vaguely, and relapsed into silence. "Of course we won't take your car. You will need it for your business excursions!" Pat said icily. "We are very much indebted to you for letting us have the use of it here. It's been of great service, hasn't it, Pixie?"