Mary had finished cutting her book; she got up and flung it down on the tea-table. "What a preposterous conversation!" she exclaimed with force, tossing the words from her as she tossed her book; and, looking round her vaguely a moment, without meeting Guy Firminger's eye, she walked away to the house. Firminger sat watching her; then he said serenely to her mother: "Why has our Mary left us?" "She has gone to get something, I suppose." "What has she gone to get?" "A little stick to beat you perhaps." "You don't mean I've been objectionable?" "Dear, no--I'm joking. One thing is very certain," pursued Mrs. Gosselin; "that you ought to work--to try to get on exactly as if nothing could ever happen. Oughtn't you?" She threw off the question mechanically as her visitor continued silent. "I'm sure she doesn't like it!" he exclaimed, without heeding her appeal. "Doesn't like what?" "My free play of mind. It's perhaps too much in the key of our old romps." "You're very clever; she always likes _that_," said Mrs. Gosselin. "You ought to go in for something serious, for something honourable," she continued, "just as much as if you had nothing at all to look to." "Words of wisdom, dear Mrs. Gosselin," Firminger replied, rising slowly from his relaxed attitude. "But what _have_ I to look to." She raised her mild, deep eyes to him as he stood before her--she might have been a fairy godmother. "Everything!" "But you know I can't poison them!" "That won't be necessary." He looked at her an instant; then with a laugh: "One might think _you_ would undertake it!" "I almost would--for _you_. Good-bye." "Take care,--if they _should_ be carried off!" But Mrs. Gosselin only repeated her good-bye, and the young man departed before Mary had come back. II