at all showed her that he had recovered from his
infatuation.

'But do you think I'm treating the poor girl badly?'

'Vincy, even if you adored her it would end unhappily. As you don't,
you would both be miserable from the first day. Be firm. Be nice and
kind to her and tell her straight out, and come and stay with us in the
country.'

'Well, that was rather my idea. Oh, but, Edith, it's hard to hurt
anyone.'

'You know I saw her driving with Aylmer that day, and I thought he
liked her. I found I was wrong.'

'Yes. He doesn't. I wish I could get some nice person to--er--take
her out. I mean, take her on.'

'What sort of person? She's pretty in her way. I daresay she'll attract
someone.'

'What sort of person? Oh, I don't know. Some nice earl would please
her, or one of those artist chaps you read of in the feuilletons--the
sort of artist who, when he once gets a tiny little picture skied at
the Academy, immediately has fortune, and titles and things, rolling
in. A little picture called 'Eventide' or 'Cows by Moonlight', or
something of that sort, in those jolly stories means ten thousand
pounds a year at once. Jolly, isn't it?'

'Yes, Vincy dear, but we're not living in a feuilleton. What's really
going to be done? Will she be nasty?'

'No. But I'm afraid Aunt Jessie will abuse me something cruel.' He
thought a little while. 'In fact she has.'

'What does she say?'

'She says I'm no gentleman. She said I had no business to lead the poor
girl on, in a manner of speaking, and walk out with her, and pay her
marked attention, and then not propose marriage like a gentleman.'

'Then you're rather unhappy just now, Vincy?'

'Well, I spoke to _her_ frankly, and said I would like to go on being
her friend, but I didn't mean to marry. And _she_ said she'd never see
me again unless I did.'

'And what else?'

'That's about all, thanks very much,' said Vincy.

Here Bruce came in.

'Edith,' he said,' have you asked Aylmer to come and stay with us at
Westgate?'

'Oh no. I think I'd rather not.'

'Why on earth not? How absurd of you. It's a bit selfish, dear, if
you'll excuse my saying so. It's all very well for you: you've got the
children and Vincy to amuse you (you're coming, aren't you, Vincy?).
What price me? I must have someone else who can go for walks and play
golf, a real pal, and so forth. I need exercise, and intellectual
sympathy. Aylmer didn't say he had anywhere else to go.'

'He's going to t