Instead of which George broke his promise, and behaved like a bear. He was a man who could not conceal his aversions, and seldom attempted to do so; and the mere sight of Mr. Kennard at his table, sleek and urbane, and indifferent to his dislike, incensed him and rendered him glum and ungracious. He talked, when he talked at all, only to Mrs. Greaves, who, with her husband and Mr. Munro, made up the party of six. Mrs. Greaves saw with foreboding the look in George Coventry's eyes as he watched his wife and Mr. Kennard conversing with intimate ease, and she felt as if they were eating their dinner with an explosive beneath the table. How she wished Rafella were not such a self-confident fool! Since the day on which she had met the pair riding together Rafella had carefully avoided being alone with her; she hoped when they repaired to the drawing-room that she might have a chance of introducing a word of advice, but whether by intention or otherwise the _tête-à-tête_ was evaded; coffee was served in the dining-room, and later they all left the table together. Mrs. Coventry preserved a semblance of good spirits during the uncomfortable hour that followed. She warbled a few English ballads while her husband scowled in a corner and Mr. Kennard turned over the songs for his hostess. He alone of the company appeared quite unaffected by the strain in the atmosphere. Mrs. Greaves rose early to go, and Mr. Munro escaped simultaneously. As they drove out of the compound, Mrs. Greaves said to her husband: "What an appalling evening! I can't think how Rafella persuaded her husband to let her invite that odious man. Evidently he did it under protest. I only hope he didn't look back into the drawing-room when he was seeing us off." Mrs. Greaves, looking back, had observed Mr. Kennard bending over Rafella at the piano, obviously uttering words that caused her to lower her head in self-conscious confusion. "I'm certain," Mrs. Greaves added, "he was taking the opportunity when our backs were turned of saying something he shouldn't." "Well, it's no business of ours," said Captain Greaves, with masculine unconcern. "Kennard's a rascal, and the woman's an ass, as I've always told you; and if Coventry can't manage his wife it's his own fault. Anyway, you can do nothing to stop it, so you'd better not interfere." "But I shall interfere," said his wife. "I can't see Rafella wrecking her happiness, and not say a word." Captain Greaves only shrugged his shoulders and urged the pony along. What Mr. Kennard had been saying to Rafella, when her husband had left the room, was this: "I'm afraid I did wrong to come. I hope it won't mean a bad time for you afterwards?" "I--I hoped it would have been all right," Rafella faltered, gazing down at the keys of the piano.