hrow her back into the power of Monsignor. Even so, he must
write his letter; one has oneself to consider, and he could bear it
no longer.

"I see you are writing, and I have many letters to write. You will
excuse me?" And Ulick went to his room. After writing his letters,
he sent word to Owen that he was dining out. "He will think I am
dining with her, but no matter; anything is better than that we two
should sit looking at each other all through the evening, thinking
of one thing and unable to speak about it."

Next day he was out all day transacting business, thinking in the
intervals, "To-morrow morning she will be in the station," sometimes
asking himself if Owen had written to her.

But the letter he had caught sight of on Owen's table had not been
posted. "After all, what is the good in writing a disagreeable
letter to her? If she is going away with Ulick what does it matter
under what trees they sat?" Yet everything else seemed to him
nothing compared with the fact that she and Ulick had pursued their
courtship under the limes facing the Serpentine; and Owen wondered
at himself. "We are ruled by trifles," he said; all the same he did
not send the letter.

And that night Owen and Ulick bade each other goodbye for the last
time.

"Perhaps I shall see you later on in the year; in about six months'
time we shall be back in London."

Owen could not bring himself to ask if Evelyn had accepted the
engagement--what was the good? To ask would be a humiliation, and he
would know to-morrow; the porter at her flat would tell him whether
she was in London.

XIV

"Mr. Dean left this morning, Sir Owen."

The butler was about to add, "He left about an hour ago, in plenty of
time to catch his train," but guessing Sir Owen's humour from his
silence, he said nothing, and left the footman to attend on him.

"So he has persuaded her to go away with him. ... I wonder--" And
Owen began to think if he should go to Ayrdale Mansions himself to
find out. But if she had not gone away with Ulick, and if he should
meet her in the street, how embarrassing it would be! Of what should
he speak to her? Of the intrigue she had been carrying on with Ulick
Dean? Should he pretend that he knew nothing of it? She would be
ashamed of this renewal of her affection for Ulick, though she had
not gone away with him; and if she had not gone, it would be only on
account of Monsignor. He sat irresolute, his thoughts dropping away
into reme