He passed into the house talking animatedly to one of his guests, and for a while Marjorie stood, staring over the three miles of open country to where the high chimneys of Frenton’s Steel Works stuck up like slender sticks against the dull background of smoke. Then with a little sigh she too went up the steps into the house. *II* "Herbert, I don’t quite understand about this morning." She was in her own sitting-room, and her fiancé, standing in front of the fire, was lighting a cigarette. "What is the matter at the works?" All through lunch the Honourable Herbert, in the intervals of being charming to the ghastly collection of old bores—as he mentally dubbed them—who formed the party, had been puzzling out the best line to take at this interview. That the girl had seen that something was wrong was obvious: no one but a blind person could have failed to notice it. And now that the interview had actually started he was still undecided.... "My dear little girl," he remarked, gently, sitting down beside her and taking her hand.... "Why worry about it? As I told you this morning, some little grievance, I expect—which I’ll inquire into...." The girl shook her head. "It’s something very much more than a grievance," she said, quietly but positively. "There’s something radically wrong, Herbert. I want to know what it is." "Good heavens! Marjorie"—there was a hint of impatience in his voice—"haven’t I told you I’ll inquire into it? Do be reasonable, my dear girl." "I’m being perfectly reasonable," she answered, still in the same quiet tone. "But I don’t understand how things have got as far as they have without any steps on your part. You say you don’t know what’s the matter. Daddy would have known long ago—and remedied it." The Honourable Herbert’s opinion of daddy, at that moment, remained unspoken.... "You see," went on the girl, "they’re just part of daddy, are the works. He was only saying to-day that he had never had any strikes. And now, when he’s getting old..." She stirred restlessly in her chair, and looked at the fire. "Of his capabilities as the boss of Frenton’s, other people have already decided." The words danced before her in the flames, and almost passionately she turned to the man beside her. "Don’t you see," she cried, "don’t you realize that I feel responsible? You’re there—as a partner—because you’re my fiancé. That’s the only reason. The works will come to me when daddy dies: I shall be responsible for them—I and my husband...." "You could always turn the thing into a Limited Company, darling," murmured the man, "if you found it too great a strain." He waited for an answer, but none came, and after a while he continued in an easy, reassuring voice. "Of course, I understand, my little Marjorie, your feelings on the matter." "Do you?" she interrupted, slowly. "I wonder."