She could not stop him. She began to feel almost as if she hated the delicious orchestral family. Jernington had a special passion for the oboe. Charmian found herself absurdly feeling against that rustic and Arcadian charmer an enmity such as she had scarcely ever experienced against a human being. One night she spoke unkindly, almost with a warmth of malignity, about the oboe. Jernington sprang amorously to its defense. She tried to quarrel with him, but was disarmed by his fidelity to the object of his affections. She was too much a woman to rail against fidelity. The 30th of August arrived. In the afternoon of that day she received the following telegram from Alston Lake: "Crayford and I start motor trip to-morrow he thinks Germany have no fear all right Marseilles or I Dutchman.--LAKE." As she read this telegram Charmian knew that the two men would come to Algiers. She believed in Alston Lake. He had an extraordinary faculty for carrying things through; and Crayford was fond of him. Crayford had been kind, generous to the boy, and loved him as a man may love his own good action. Lake, as he had said in private to Charmian, could "do a lot with dear old Crayford." He would certainly bring Crayford to Mustapha. Old Jernington must go. The 31st of August dawned and began to fade. Charmian felt desperate. She resolved to tackle Claude on the matter. Old Jernington would never understand unless she said to him, "Go! For Heaven's sake, go!" And even then he would probably think that she was saying the reverse of what she meant, in an effort after that type of playful humor which, for all she knew, perhaps still prevailed in his native Suffolk. She had bent Claude to her purposes before. She must bend him to her purpose now. "Claudie," she said, "you know what an old dear I think Jernington, don't you?" Claude looked up at her with rather searching eyes. She had come into his workroom at sunset. All day she had been considering what would be the best thing to do. Old Jernington was strolling in the garden smoking a very German pipe after having been "at it" for many hours. "Jernington?" "Yes, old Jernington." "Of course he's an excellent fellow. What about him?" She sat down delicately. She was looking very calm, and her movement was very quiet. "Well, I'm beginning almost to hate him!" she remarked quietly. "What do you mean, Charmian?" "If I tell you are you going to get angry?" "Why should I get angry?" "You are looking very fierce." He altered his expression. "It's the work," he muttered. "When one grinds as I do one does feel fierce." "That's why I'm beginning to--well, love Mr. Jernington a little less than I used to. He's almost killing you." "Jernington!" "Yes. It's got to stop." Her voice and manner had quite changed. She spoke now with earnest and very serious decision. "What?" "The work, Claude. I've seen for some time that unless you take a short holiday you are going to break down."