Latterly Snagsby’s eye had lost the assurance of his former days. She had noted it before, she noted it now more than ever; as though he was losing confidence, as though he was beginning to doubt, as though the world he had once seemed to rule grew insecure beneath his feet. For a moment she met his eye; it might have been a warning he conveyed, it might have been an appeal for sympathy, and then he had gone. She looked at the table. Sir Isaac had breakfasted acutely. In silence, among the wreckage and with a certain wonder growing, Lady Harman attended to her needs. Sir Isaac cleared his throat. She became aware that he had spoken. “What did you say, Isaac?” she asked, looking up. He seemed to have widened his straddle almost dangerously, and he spoke with a certain conscious forcefulness. “We’re going to move out of this house, Elly,” he said. “We’re going down into the country right away.” She sat back in her chair and regarded his pinched and determined visage. “What do you mean?” she asked. “I’ve bought that house of Brumley’s,—Black Strand. We’re going to move down there—_now_. I’ve told the servants.... When you’ve done your breakfast, you’d better get Peters to pack your things. The big car’s going to be ready at half-past ten.” Lady Harman reflected. “To-morrow evening,” she said, “I was going out to dinner at Lady Viping’s.” “Not my affair—seemingly,” said Sir Isaac with irony. “Well, the car’s going to be ready at half-past ten.” “But that dinner——!” “We’ll think about it when the time comes.” Husband and wife regarded each other. “I’ve had about enough of London,” said Sir Isaac. “So we’re going to shift the scenery. See?” Lady Harman felt that one might adduce good arguments against this course if only one knew of them. Sir Isaac had a bright idea. He rang. “Snagsby,” he said, “just tell Peters to pack up Lady Harman’s things....” “_Well!_” said Lady Harman, as the door closed on Snagsby. Her mind was full of confused protest, but she had again that entirely feminine and demoralizing conviction that if she tried to express it she would weep or stumble into some such emotional disaster. If now she went upstairs and told Peters _not_ to pack——! Sir Isaac walked slowly to the window, and stood for a time staring out into the garden. Extraordinary bumpings began overhead in Sir Isaac’s room. No doubt somebody was packing something.... Lady Harman realized with a deepening humiliation that she dared not dispute before the servants, and that he could. “But the children——” she said at last. “I’ve told Mrs. Harblow,” he said, over his shoulder. “Told her it was a bit of a surprise.” He turned, with a momentary lapse into something like humour. “You see,” he said, “it _is_ a bit of a surprise.” “But what are you going to do with this house?” “Lock it all up for a bit.... I don’t see any sense in living where we aren’t happy. Perhaps down there we shall manage better....”