perhaps--if you're run down you oughtn't
to."

"I'm not so bad as all that. The only thing is, you say he ought to get
away from you, and I wanted you to come too."

"Me?"

"You and Maisie and Jerrold."

"I can't. It's impossible. I can't leave the farm."

"My dear girl, you mustn't be tied to it like that. Don't you ever get
away?"

"Not unless Jerrold or Colin are here. We can't all three be away at
once. But it's awfully nice of you to think of it."

"I didn't. It was Maisie."

Maisie? Would she never get away from Maisie, and Maisie's sweetness and
kindness, breaking her down?

"She'll be awfully disappointed if you don't go."

"Why should she be?"

"Because she wants you to."

"Maisie?"

"Yes. Surely you know she likes you?"

"I was afraid she was beginning to--"

"Why? Don't you want her to like you? Don't you like _her_?"

"Yes. And I don't want to like her. If I once begin I shall end by
loving her."

"My dear, it would be the best thing you could do."

"No, Eliot, it wouldn't. You don't know.... Here she is."

Maisie came to them along the terrace. She moved with an unresisting
grace, a delicate bowing of her head and swaying of her body, and
breathless as if she went against a wind. Eliot gave up his chair and
limped away from them.

"Has he told you about Taormina?" she said.

"Yes. It's sweet of you to ask me to go with you----"

"You're coming, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid I can't."

"Why ever not?"

"I can't leave the land for one thing. Not if Jerrold and Colin aren't
here."

"Oh, bother the old land! You _must_ leave it. It can get on without you
for a month or two. Nothing much can happen in that time."

"Oh, can't it! Things can happen in a day if you aren't there to see
that they don't."

"Well, Jerrold won't mind much if they do. But he'll mind awfully if you
don't come. So shall I. Besides, it's all settled. He's to come back
with Eliot in time for the hay harvest, and you and I and Colin are to
go on to the Italian Lakes. My father and mother are joining us at Como
in June. We shall be there a month and come home through Switzerland."

"It would be heavenly, but I can't do it. I can't, really, Maisie." She
was thinking: He'll be back for the hay harvest.

"But you must. You can't go and spoil all our pleasure like that.
Jerrold's and Eliot's and Colin's. _And_ mine. I never dreamed of your
not coming."

"Do you mean you really want me?"

"Of course I want