I can’t write the whole details of the rest of the visit. I was miserable, and that is the truth. Fate seemed to be against Lord Robert speaking to me--even when he tried--and I felt I must be extra cool and nasty because I--Oh! well, I may as well say it--he attracts me very much. I never once looked at him from under my eyelashes, and after the next day, he did not even try to have an explanation. He glanced with wrath sometimes--especially when Malcolm hung over me--and Lady Ver said his temper was dreadful. She was so sweet to me, it almost seemed as if she wanted to make up to me for not letting me play with Lord Robert. (Of course I would not allow her to see I minded that.) And finally Friday came, and the last night. I sat in my room from tea until dinner. I could not stand Malcolm any longer. I had fenced with him rather well up to that, but that promise of mine hung over me. I nipped him every time he attempted to explain what it was, and to this moment l don’t know, but it did not prevent him from saying tiresome, loving things, mixed with priggish advice. I don’t know what would have happened only when he got really horribly affectionate just after tea I was so exasperated, I launched this bomb. “I don’t believe a word you are saying--your real interest is Angela Grey.” He nearly had a fit, and shut up at once. So, of course, it is not a horse. I felt sure of it. Probably one of those people Mrs. Carruthers said all young men knew; their adolescent measles and chicken-pox she called them. All the old men talked a great deal to me; and even the other two young ones, but these last days I did not seem to have any of my usual spirits. Just as we were going to bed on Friday night Lord Robert came up to Lady Ver--she had her hand through my arm. “I can come to the play with you to-morrow night, after all,” he said. “I have wired to Campion to make a fourth, and you will get some other woman, won’t you?” “I will try,” said Lady Ver, and she looked right into his eyes, then she turned to me. “I shall feel so cruel leaving you alone, Evangeline” (at once almost she called me Evangeline, I should never do that with strangers), “but I suppose you ought not to be seen at a play just yet.” “I like being alone,” I said. “I shall go to sleep early.” Then they settled to dine all together at her house, and go on; so, knowing I should see him again, I did not even say good-bye to Lord Robert, and he left by the early train. A number of the guests came up to London with us. My leavetaking with Lady Katherine had been coldly cordial. I thanked her deeply for her kindness in asking me there. She did not renew the invitation; I expect she felt a person like I am, who would have to look after herself, was not a suitable companion to her altar-cloth and poker workers.