He had some difficulty in replying. "So I noticed," he said. They lamely waited. Mabel caught at a window cord and played with it. "We ought to go downstairs," she whispered. Why she spoke in a whisper she could not imagine. Mr. Symington came close to her. "Mabs," he said, "just for three minutes I mean to call you Mabs. And after that--if you are offended--you can turn me off to the ends of the earth again. You know why I left before." She bent her head a little. "You didn’t want me to go? You didn’t want me to go! Say that much, won’t you?" She could not answer. "I know what it means if you do," he said. "Oh don’t I know what it means? Mabs, I’m going to make you care for me--as I do for you--can you possibly imagine how much I care for you--why won’t you speak to me?" Mabel never spoke to him at all. He happened to take her hand just then, and the same confidence which had so strangely come to her a few days ago on his arrival, came to her once more. He took her hand, and time stood still. Somebody outside, a vague time afterwards, called for Mabel. It dawned on them both that they were attending Isobel’s wedding. "We ought to go downstairs," whispered Mabel. Her conversation was certainly very limited. They both smiled as they noticed this, a comprehensive, understanding, oh! a different smile to any they had ever allowed themselves. "We will, when you’ve just once--Mabs--look up at me. Now--once." Time stood still once more, but it took the last of the frown from between the eyes of Mr. Symington. "Now for Isobel’s wedding party," cried he. Mr. Leighton was stunned a little with the news. "Only one stipulation," said he. "I want to tell Elma myself." Mabel was terribly disappointed. "Oh, papa--of all people--I wanted to tell Elma." He was adamant however, even when Mr. Symington added his requests. "You’ve interfered seriously enough between me and one of my daughters," Mr. Leighton said severely. "Leave me the other." So nothing was mentioned until Mr. Leighton should tell Elma. Mrs. Leighton was nervous about the whole thing, yet in an underhand way very proud of Mabel. "I can’t see that any of you are at all suited to be the wife of a man like Mr. Symington," she said to Mabel pessimistically. "But your father thinks it is all right." She had had rather a long day with Aunt Katharine. Elma saw that the clouds had lifted where Mabel was concerned, and Mr. Symington was in magnificent spirits. She thought they might have told her something, but she was sent to lie down with no news at all until the dance in the evening. Isobel left regally. There was not much of the usual scrimmage of a wedding-leave-taking about her departure. Her toque and costume were irreproachable. Miss Meredith attended her dutifully, as though she were a bridesmaid herself. But with Robin she had felt too motherly for that. Indeed, some new qualities in Miss Meredith seemed to be coming uppermost.