re's manner grew quite fierce. He looked at Nora out of his
bloodshot eyes. "Promise," he said. "I won't have it done--do you hear?"

"No, father, of course I won't if it vexes you."

"It does, my child, it does," the Squire's manner became tenderer than
ever. "I'm worried and in trouble at present, and I am best alone; I am
best all by myself for a bit. God knows, I suppose I shall pull round
after a bit, and face you all--that poor boy whom I've ruined, and the
rest of you--but I must get time--that's only reasonable--I must get
time. Now I'm off; I'm glad to see you looking well, Nora."

"But you'll come and see me again, father; you promise, do promise that
you'll come and see me again."

"Yes, my child, if you wish it."

"To-morrow; promise you'll come to-morrow. Antonia made me write to ask
you to come to lunch, and I sent the letter to the Carlton. Will you
come to lunch to-morrow?"

"No; I can't do that, but I'll look in some day. Good-bye, Nora,
good-bye, my pet."

The Squire put his arms again round Nora, kissed her on her lips and
brow, and left the house.

Antonia, who was trying to keep her mother quiet in the dismal
dining-room, heard him slam the hall door after him, and rushed to the
window to watch him down the street.

Mrs. Bernard Temple went and peeped over her daughter's shoulder.

"I am glad he has gone," she said. "It's so trying to be turned out of
one's drawing-room. He's very seedy about his clothes, but he has an
aristocratic walk. I suppose I may go back now, Antonia, to finish my
cup of tea."

"Oh, yes, mother, all in good time. What does tea signify when you see a
man broken with an awful grief of that sort? Why, he looks like a
captive lion. Mother, cant you get enthusiastic on the subject? Can't
you try?"

"I'm sure, my dear, I have tried, but I cannot really see that it will
injure the Lorrimers for me to finish my tea. With all I am undergoing
on my own account at present--but of course, Antonia, you have no
sympathy for your mother."

"Oh, yes, I have when you need it, but you don't just now; you are
perfectly happy. However, you must of course have your tea, and I won't
worry you any more after you have sent off the telegram."

"The telegram! Oh, you erratic, perverse child; what next?"

"You have to telegraph to Sir John, mother, to beg of him to come here
immediately. Things have gone much farther with Squire Lorrimer than I
had the least idea of. He must be put o