Phil pondered over this piece of intelligence a good deal. So Tor was spending his own money freely. Spending his own meant saving Phil’s. If he was saving Phil’s, what could be his object? Why should he save it, if he looked upon it as his own, and meant to claim it as such? Was it caution? or was it honesty? What could be the reason for economizing money supposed to be his own? Phil puzzled over this question without solving the problem to his own satisfaction. On the whole, he inclined to believe that Tor was acting more fairly towards him than he had once believed; and yet he could not see his way out of the difficulty, nor understand how it was possible for his friend to be anything but false and treacherous. He hung about Ladywell as a moth flits about a candle: it fascinated him to watch, as far as possible, the life that went on there; and yet the more he watched the more he saw how strong was Tor’s position, and the more did he fear the result of trying to oust him. ‘What would be the good to me of house and lands, if my sister hated me, and my aunt—the only aunt I care about—feared and blamed me? I should be detested at Ladywell, I know, if Tor were in prison. They will never love me as they do him. Maud is just wrapped up in him. Even Roma might turn against me then. Though she does not love him, she would pity him, and as everybody knows, pity is akin to love.’ It never occurred to Phil that Tor might be as much wrapped up in Maud, as Maud was in him, and the idea of his being in love with her never so much as entered his head. As he had been told that he was engaged to Roma, this was perhaps natural. As her heart was not concerned in the matter, his must be; otherwise the engagement could never have been formed. The next event that followed was an invitation to dine at Ladywell. This invitation Phil accepted readily. He was not now at all nervous of being detected, and his interest in that household was most absorbing. Tor, in giving the invitation, had implied that it was merely a friendly dinner he was asked to share, that no company would be invited; and he thought that perhaps some opportunity would arise which would give him that private interview which he longed for whilst he dreaded. When he reached the drawing-room he found two strange ladies there, as well as Maud and Mrs. Lorraine. One was a young girl of blooming countenance, the other a handsome, keen-eyed, well-dressed elderly lady, whose name was given as Miss Marjory Descartes. Phil fancied the name was not altogether strange to him. He had a vague idea that he had heard it before, and that in some way or another it was associated with Tor; but he could not find the clue to the dim train of thought aroused, and as dinner was announced, his duty of conducting Maud to the head of her table now occupied his mind to the exclusion of all else.