Tor spoke with such frank and easy coolness that Bertha was disarmed. Her confidence in her own penetration convinced her that she should have detected him at once, had he been the least bit startled or embarrassed, and he had not evinced the faintest sign of being the one or the other. One more attempt did she make to force his confidence. ‘Of course I don’t mean to say anything of this to anybody, Phil.’ ‘Why not?’ Bertha gave her head an expressive shake. ‘I thought it might be awkward for you.’ Tor laughed in his mirthful way. ‘Why on earth? I think it’s rather a good joke. How could it be awkward for me, fair cousin?’ ‘Oh, I don’t know. It was only a silly fancy of mine,’ answered Bertha confusedly; for in the light of Tor’s cool, unconcerned demeanour, her suspicions did look both foolish and uncalled for. ‘All the same, I shan’t talk about it, because I shouldn’t like anyone else to fancy such things.’ ‘Fancies are harmless luxuries, are they not? I am sure I have no wish to stand in the way of anyone’s imagination,’ answered Tor lazily. ‘At the same time, let me thank you for your evident goodwill on my behalf; I shall not forget that you have wished to stand between me and even an imaginary annoyance. I appreciate your consideration, my dear cousin.’ Bertha smiled and blushed, and felt greatly delighted at having provoked such words as these. He had not even guessed at the ridiculous blunder she had made, and had been quite grateful for her confidence. Bertha was more than ever determined to keep her secret, whether he cared for its preservation or not, so that he would not have cause to think she had made a vain promise, which she intended to break. Tor’s face was somewhat grave and preoccupied as he walked home. Could Bertha have seen him then, she might have fancied her words had made a deeper impression than she believed at the time. However, his meditations ended after all in a laugh. ‘Possession is nine points of the law. They would find it rather a difficult matter to oust me now, even if they got the clue; and it’s too nasty a charge to bring up on insufficient evidence. Young Moncrieff’s recognition and ideas as to likeness are about all that could turn up against me—that, or similar identifications. Old Belassis is too much afraid of me to proceed, unless he was sure of his cause, and in any case he would think twice before getting quite out at elbows with me. I don’t think I need be much afraid. I am learning the art of brazening things out finely. Practice makes perfect. By the time old Phil comes round, I dare say I could stand him out that he was I, and I he, if he weren’t so completely the Debenham, and so like Maud. I wish he would come soon, I know. I’m uncommonly tired of playing the brother’s part, and waiting her pleasure as to young Belassis; though I don’t believe she will marry him, when it comes to the point.’