She told him so much the next day, when he called at The Knoll to see Clare. The girl had gone to Brackenhurst to try to obtain some materials in which she had found her store deficient--a special sort of tracing paper, the need for which Claude had told her of or the previous evening. Agnes noticed how his face clouded when he learned that Clare was not in the house. She wondered how it was that she had never before seen signs of his new attachment. A few minutes had been sufficient to make Sir Percival acquainted with the truth. And yet it was generally assumed that in such matters women were much more sensitive than men. Could it be that the womanliness in her nature had been blunted by her unnatural constancy? This was her sudden thought on noticing the disappointment on his face. “You will wait for her?” she said. “She has been gone some time; she is sure to return very shortly. Brackenhurst has not so many shops as should occupy her for long.” “Perhaps I had better wait,” said he. “I want to make a start upon the book. My shorthand writers are coming to me to-morrow.” “They will save you a great deal of trouble, I am sure,” said Agnes. Their conversation could not be too commonplace, she thought. “You will take a seat near the fire? I am so sorry that Clare is out.” There was a considerable pause before he said: “After all, perhaps it is as well for her to be out. The fact is, my dear Agnes, I have been wishing to--to--well, to have a chat with you alone about Clare--yes, and other matters. The present is as good an opportunity as I am likely to have.” “What can you possibly want to say to me?” said Agnes, raising her eyebrows. “What? Well, apart from the fact that you and I were once--nay, we are still the best of friends, I think it but right to tell you that I--I--oh, what a strange thing is Fate!” “Is it not?” said Agnes, with a little smile. “Yes, I have often wondered that that remark was not made by some one long ago. Perhaps it was.” The note of sarcasm was scarcely perceptible in her words; and yet it seemed as if he detected it. He gave a quick glance toward her; but she looked quite serious. “Was it not Fate that brought her here after I fancied I had seen her for the last time?” said he. “Would it not save you a great deal of trouble--a good deal of stoic philosophy, if you were to come to the point at once and tell me that you fell in love with Clare Tristram when you were sailing down the Mediterranean with her by your side, that you were overjoyed to see her here, and that, although quite six weeks have passed, your constant heart has not changed in its affection for her? Is not that what you mean to say to me?” “What, have I worn my heart upon my sleeve?” he said, giving a little laugh. “Have you read my secret?”