"The heartless coquette," said this ill-used young man aloud, staring dismally at the lake. "I wonder what she thinks a man is made of to be preached at? I asked for love and she gave me a sermon. Good Lord! I thought she would have cried and made a fuss like other girls, but she didn't, confound her! Fancy talking about ignorance of character and all that stuff, when a fellow's dying of love, and as to being friends, that's not my style. I'm not going to run after her like a poodle dog, and be driven away every two minutes. I'll see Gartney, and we'll go away at once. I'll never see her again, never! never! never!" "That's emphatic, at all events," said a quiet voice at his elbow, and on turning round, he saw Eustace standing near him complacently smoking a cigarette. "Oh, it's you," said Otterburn, in an ill-tempered tone. "Yes! forgive me, but I couldn't help overhearing the last few words you spoke. I--I hope you've been successful in your wooing." "I don't know what you mean," retorted Angus sulkily, stretching his long legs out, and thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets. "I beg your pardon," replied Eustace, ceremoniously. "I have no wish to force your confidence." The Master made no reply, but glared savagely at his boots, while Eustace, taking in the situation at a glance, stood silently beside him, not without a secret gratification that Otterburn had been punished for his base desertion of friendship for love. This was so like Gartney, whose colossal egotism saw in the successes or failures of others nothing but what tended to his own self-glorification. "Gartney," said Otterburn, suddenly looking up, "I'm deadly sick of this place." "Everyone seems to be of your opinion," answered Eustace, complacently; "the Erringtons go to-day, and Mrs. Trubbles to-morrow--of course la Belle Victoria accompanies them--aren't you inconsolable?" This was cruel of Eustace, and he knew it. "No, I'm not," retorted Angus, doughtily, "she's not the only girl in the world. I wish to heaven you'd talk sense. Tell me when are we going to start?" "When you like." "For Vienna?" "I'm rather tired of Vienna," said Gartney, listlessly, "I've been there four times and it's always the same. If you don't mind, I'd rather we tried a fresh locality." "I don't care," said Otterburn, with a scowl. "I'll go anywhere--to the devil if you like." "That's looking too far ahead," replied Eustace ironically. "What do you say to Cyprus? I've been reading Mallock's book about it and it seems one place not in the grip of Cook's tourists and Baedeker's Guide Books. We can take the train to Venice, and go down the Adriatic." "Very well," said Macjean, rising, with a huge sigh. "If you don't mind, I'll go to Milan to-day. You can follow to-morrow."