'Yes,' said Miss Entwhistle, very earnestly. 'It's the sort of character that takes things to heart, and she'll be miserable--miserable, Everard, and worry and worry if I just disappear as you wish me to without a word. Of course I'll go, and I promise I'll never come again unless you ask me to. But don't, because you're angry, insist on something that will make Lucy extraordinarily unhappy. Let me say good-night to her now, and good-bye to-morrow morning. I tell you she'll be terribly worried if I don't. She'll think'--Miss Entwhistle tried to smile--'that you've turned me out. And then, you see, if she thinks that, she won't be able----' Miss Entwhistle hesitated. 'Well, she won't be able to be proud of you. And that, my dear Everard--' she looked at him with a faint smile of deprecation and apology that she, a spinster, should talk of this--'gives love its deepest wound.' Wemyss stared at her, too much amazed to speak. In his house.... In his own house! 'I'm sorry,' she said, still more earnestly, 'if this annoys you, but I do want--I really do think it is very important.' There was then a silence during which they looked at each other, he at her in amazement, she at him trying to hope,--hope that he would take what she had said in good part. It was so vital that he should understand, that he should get an idea of the effect on Lucy of just that sort of unkind, even cruel behaviour. His own happiness was involved as well. Tragic, tragic for every one if he couldn't be got to see.... 'Are you aware,' he said, 'that this is my house?' 'Oh Everard----' she said at that, with a movement of despair. 'Are you aware,' he continued, 'that you are talking to a husband of his wife?' Miss Entwhistle said nothing, but leaning her head on her hand looked at the fire. 'Are you aware that you thrust yourself into my house uninvited directly my back was turned, and have been living in it, and would have gone on indefinitely living in it, without any sanction from me unless I had come down, as I did come down, on purpose to put an end to such an outrageous state of affairs?' 'Of course,' she said, 'that is one way of describing it.' 'It is the way of every reasonable and decent person,' said Wemyss. 'Oh no,' said Miss Entwhistle. 'That is precisely what it isn't. But,' she added, getting up from the chair and holding out her hand, 'it is your way, and so I think, Everard, I'll say good-night. And good-bye too, for I don't expect I'll see you in the morning.' 'One would suppose,' he said, taking no notice of her proffered hand, for he hadn't nearly done, 'from your tone that this was your house and I was your servant.' 'I assure you I could never imagine it to be my house or you my servant.' 'You made a great mistake, I can tell you, when you started interfering between husband and wife. You have only yourself to thank if I don't allow you to continue to see Lucy.' She stared at him.