He was in the act of pouring out his coffee, when his name, uttered behind him in a familiar voice, made him start. The next moment Dudley Horne stood by his side, and holding out his hand with a smile, seated himself on the chair beside him. "I--I--I overslept myself this morning," stammered Max. He was in a state of absolute bewilderment. Not only had the new Dudley of the previous night disappeared, with his alternate depression and feverish high spirits, his furtive glances, his hoarse and altered voice, but the old Dudley, who had returned, seemed happier and livelier than usual. "Town and its wicked ways don't agree with you, my boy, nor do they with me. If I were in your shoes, I shouldn't tread the streets of Babylon more than once a twelvemonth." "You think that now," returned Max, "because you see more than enough of town." "Well, I'm not going to see much more of it at present," retorted Dudley. "This afternoon I'm off again down to Datton, and I came to ask whether you were coming down with me." "I thought you had had a row, at least a misunderstanding of some sort, with--with my father?" "Why, yes, so I had," replied Dudley, serenely, as he took a newspaper out of his pocket and folded it for reading. "But I've written to him already this morning, explaining things, and telling him that I propose to come down to The Beeches this evening. He'll get it before I turn up, I should think, for I posted it at six o'clock this morning." "Why, what were you doing at six o'clock in the morning?" said Max, in a tone of bewilderment, as before. "Didn't you go to bed at all last night?" "No," answered Dudley, calmly. "I had some worrying things to think about, and so I took the night to do it in." A slight frown passed over his face as he spoke, but it disappeared quickly, leaving him as placid as before. "About one of the things I can consult you, Max. You know something about it, I suppose. Do you think I have any chance with Doreen?" Max stared at him again. "You must be blind if you haven't seen that you have," he said, at last, in a sort of muffled voice, grudgingly. He moved uneasily in his seat, and added, in a hurried manner: "But, I say, you know, Dudley, after last night, I--I want to ask you something myself. I'm Doreen's brother, though I'm not much of a brother for such a nice girl as she is. And--and--what on earth did you think of going to Liverpool for _with a woman_? I've a right to ask that now, haven't I?" Max blurted out these words in a dogged tone, not deterred from finishing his sentence by the fact that Dudley's face had grown white and hard, and that over his whole attitude there had come a rapid change. There was a pause when the younger man had finished. Dudley kept his eyes down, and traced a pattern on the table-cloth with a fork, while Max looked at him furtively. At last Dudley looked up quickly and asked, in a tone which admitted of no prevarication in the answer he demanded: