"There was a time," the Marquis reflected, "when several of my Irish tenants used to shoot at me every Saturday night from behind a hedge. It was not in the least a dangerous operation, and I presume it brought them some relief. With Vont, however, things would be different. I remember him distinctly as a most wonderful shot." "Psychologically," Marcia Hannaway observed, "his present action is interesting. If he had shot you or me in his first fit of passionate resentment, everything would have been in order, but to leave the country, nurse a sullen feeling of revenge for years, and then come back, seems curious. What shall you do when you see him sitting in his garden?" "I shall address him," the Marquis replied. "I fear that his long residence in such a country as America will have altered him considerably, but it is of course possible that the instincts of his class remain." "How feudal you are!" she laughed. The Marquis frowned slightly. Although this was the one person in the world whom he felt was necessary to him, who held a distinct place in his very inaccessible heart, there were times when he entertained a dim suspicion that she was making fun of him. At such times he was very angry indeed. "In any case," he said, "we will not waste our time in speculating upon this man's attitude. I am still hoping that I may be able to devise means to render his occupancy of the cottage impossible." "I should like to hear about the boy." "If," the Marquis promised, "I find Vont's attitude respectful, I will make enquiries." "When are you going to Mandeleys?" she asked. "I am in no hurry to leave London," he replied. "When you go," she told him, "I have made up my mind to take a little holiday. I thought even of going to the South of France." The lines of her companion's forehead were slightly elevated. "My dear Marcia," he protested gently, "is that like you? The class of people who frequent the Riviera at this time of the year--" She laughed at him delightfully. "Oh, you foolish person!" she interrupted. "If I go, I shall go to a tiny little boarding house, or take a villa in one of the quiet places--San Raphael, perhaps, or one of those little forgotten spots between Hyères and Cannes. Phillis Grant would go with me. She isn't going to act again until the autumn season." Her visitor's expression was a little blank. "In the case of your departure from London," he announced, in a very even but very forlorn tone, "I will instruct Mr. Wadham to make a suitable addition to your allowance. At the same time, Marcia," he added, "I shall miss you." His words were evidently a surprise to her. She threw away her cigarette and came and sat on the sofa by his side. "Do you know, I believe you would," she murmured, resting her hand upon his. "How queer!" "I have never concealed my affection for you, have I?" he asked. This time the laugh which broke from her lips was scarcely natural.