"You don't understand? Well, you will soon." She grew cooler as her mischievous pleasure in puzzling him overcame her wrath. "You'll know what you've done soon." "Shall I? How shall I find it out?" "You'll be sorry when--when a certain thing happens." He threw himself into a chair with a peevish laugh. "I confess your riddles rather bore me. Is there any answer to this one?" "Yes, very soon. I've been to see Lady Evenswood." "She knows the answer, does she?" "Perhaps." Her animation suddenly left her. "But I suppose it's all no use now," she said dolefully. They sat silent for a minute or two, Harry seeming to fall into a fit of abstraction. "What did you mean by saying I oughtn't to have taken her to dinner and so on?" he asked, as Mina rose to go. She shook her head. "I've nothing more to say," she declared. "And you say I'm half in love with her?" "Yes, I do," she snapped viciously as she turned toward the door. But she looked back at him before she went out. "As far as that goes," he said slowly, "I'm not sure you're wrong, Madame Zabriska. But I could never marry her." The Imp launched a prophecy, confidently, triumphantly, maliciously. "Before very long she'll be the one to say that, and you've got yourself to thank for it too! Good-by!" She was gone. Harry sat down and slowly filled and lit his pipe. It was probably all nonsense; but again he recollected Cecily's words: "If ever the time comes, I shall remember!" Whatever might be the state of his feelings toward her, or of hers toward him, a satisfactory outcome seemed impossible. And somehow this notion had the effect of spoiling the success of the day for Harry Tristram; so that among the Imp's whirling words there was perhaps a grain or two of wisdom. At least his talk with her did not make Harry's visions less constant or less intense. XXII AN INSULT TO THE BLOOD It could not be denied that Blinkhampton was among the things which arose out of Blent. To acknowledge even so much Harry felt to be a slur on his independence, on the new sense of being able to do things for himself in which his pride, robbed of its old opportunities, was taking refuge and finding consolation. It was thanks to himself anyhow that it had so arisen, for Iver was not the man to mingle business and sentiment. Harry snatched this comfort, and threw his energies into the work, both as a trial of his powers and as a safeguard against his thoughts. He went down to the place and stayed a week. The result of his visit was a report which Iver showed to Southend with a very significant nod; even the mistakes in it, themselves inevitable from want of experience, were the errors of a large mind. The touch of dogmatism did not displease a man who valued self-confidence above all other qualities. "The lad will do; he'll make his way," said Iver.