A mood darker than any he had lately known settled over him. It was natural for Ludowika to be lonely, at first; but in a little she would grow to love the wild like himself. She must. The Province was to be her life. He was standing before the fire in the informal chamber beyond the dining room, watching his mother's vigorous hands deftly engaged in embroidery. There was no one present, and a sudden, totally desperate recklessness possessed him. Isabel Penny said: "Mr. Winscombe will be here shortly." "I wish it would be to-night," he declared. She raised her calm gaze with brows arched in inquiry. "There is something--" he broke off. "She belongs to me," he said in a low, harsh voice, "and not to that old man." Mrs. Penny secured her needle, and put the colourful web aside. She was, as he had been sure she would be, entirely composed, admirable. Her questioning look grew keener. "I was afraid of that," she admitted simply; "after the first. It is very unpleasant and difficult. This is not London, and your father will make no allowances. You are not any easier to bend, Howat. With Mrs. Winscombe--" she paused, "I am not certain. But there is no doubt about the husband." "She belongs to me," he reiterated sullenly. "There is no need for you to make yourself offensively clear. I know something of details of that kind. I told you once that they might mean only a very little to--to certain women. I am not prepared to judge about that. But I know you, what bitter feeling you are capable of. You are a very pure man, Howat; and for that reason such an occurrence would tear you up and across. There is no use in begging you to be cautious, diplomatic. Mr. Winscombe, too, is very determined; he has many advantages--maturity, coldness, experience. He won't spare you, either. It's excessively unfortunate." "I'll get it over as quickly as possible. I didn't want the thing to happen, it wasn't from any choice; it hit me like a bullet. Nothing else is of the slightest importance. I've gone over this again and again; I'll tell him and let him try what he can. Ludowika's gone from--from the fireworks and fiddles and stinking courts; I've got her, and, by God, I'll keep her!" "Talk quietly; you can't shout yourself into this. Are you certain that Mrs. Winscombe really finds the courts--stinking? I remember, at first," she stopped. Even in the midst of his passion he listened for what revelation she might make; but none followed. She was silent for a minute. "They become a habit," she said finally; "love, loves, become a habit. Only men brought up in the same atmosphere can understand. At first Felix Winscombe will be infuriated with you for speaking, then he will realize more, and the trouble will follow. Are you certain that you have comprehended? It would be stupid to mistake an episode, you would succeed only in making yourself ridiculous." He lifted up both his hands and closed them with a quivering, relentless force.