Mrs. Delarayne, hatless and tearful with impatience, was at the gate waiting for the sound that was to announce the arrival of Lord Henry. Inside Cleopatra had just recovered from another fainting fit, and Agatha, who was with her, had rendered valuable help. Mrs. Delarayne had never considered her weeks at Brineweald as a source of joy; if this continued, however, they would prove absolutely intolerable. At last the familiar thumping sound became audible in the distance. Yes, it was that dear boy Stephen, and someone was riding on the pillion-seat of his cycle. In a moment cyclist and passenger dismounted at Mrs. Delarayne's gate, but the latter alone accompanied the lady into the house. "Oh, Lord Henry," gasped the widow, "it is really very tiresome. Poor Cleopatra has had another of her attacks, and I thought it would be best if she saw you immediately afterwards. That's why I sent for you in all that hurry." "I'm afraid the attacks themselves can tell me little," observed Lord Henry gravely. "It really didn't matter when I saw her. However, I might just as well speak to her now." "Half a minute," whispered Mrs. Delarayne, leaving him in the drawing-room. "I'll go and prepare her." And so saying she vanished into the adjoining apartment, which, as far as Lord Henry was able to tell from a glimpse, appeared to be the billiard-room. High words seemed to pass between the widow, her daughter, and Agatha; for, although Mrs. Delarayne had closed the door behind her, Lord Henry could distinctly catch snatches of their discussion. It was clear that Cleopatra was resolutely objecting to see him, and that her mother and Agatha were doing their utmost to induce her to alter her mind. At last Mrs. Delarayne returned. "Isn't it tiresome," she exclaimed, taking a chair, "now she absolutely refuses to see you!" "It's not surprising," observed Lord Henry, sitting down beside her. "Yes, but she must see you; I insist," Mrs. Delarayne pursued. "Her indisposition," muttered Lord Henry, "is probably a salutary refuge. She imagines that she alone knows the cause of it, and that it would therefore be utterly futile to be examined and worried by people who cannot possibly trace it to its origin. She knows, moreover, that even if it is traced to its origin, the discovery can only prove humiliating to her pride." "Yes, but----" "We must manoeuvre." The widow did not understand. "I mean, if you and Agatha will only disappear, I'll walk into the room and prevail upon her to make friends. That is to say," he added, "provided she doesn't escape meanwhile." Mrs. Delarayne fingered her necklace pensively, and jerked her head forward once or twice in solemn silence. "That's the only thing, I'm afraid," said Lord Henry. The widow rose, still staring very thoughtfully before her. "Don't make too heavy weather of it," continued Lord Henry. "It's not serious. It will all be well in a day or two." "Really?" she exclaimed brightening. "Certainly," he said.