st have supposed she liked Claudius very much, and
he had perhaps contrived the whole excursion in order to throw them
together. Her first impulse was to change her mind and not go after all.

Meanwhile Claudius was much astonished at the turn things had taken.
Margaret had known nothing about the invitation to the Doctor after all,
and her coldness this morning must be attributed to some other cause.
But now that she did know she looked less pleased than ever. She did not
want him. The Doctor was a proud man in his quiet way, and he was,
moreover, in love, not indeed hopelessly as yet, for love is never
wholly irrevocable until it has survived the crucial test, attainment of
its object; but Claudius loved, and he knew it. Consequently his pride
revolted at the idea of thrusting himself where he was not wanted, and
his love forbade him to persecute the woman he worshipped. He also said
to himself, "I will not go." He had not yet accepted the invitation.

"I had intended to write to you this afternoon," he said, turning to the
Duke. "But since it is my good fortune to be able to thank you in person
for your kind invitation, let me do so now."

"I hope you are going," said the Duke.

"I fear," answered Claudius, "that I shall be prevented from joining
you, much as I would like to do so. I have by no means decided to
abandon my position in Heidelberg."

Neither Margaret nor the Duke were in the least prepared for this piece
of news. The Duke was taken aback at the idea that any human being could
refuse such an invitation. Following on his astonishment that Margaret
should not be delighted at having the Doctor on board, the intelligence
that the Doctor did not want to go at all threw the poor man into the
greatest perplexity. He had made a mistake somewhere, evidently; but
where or how he could not tell.

"Barker," he said to himself, "is an ass. He has made me muff the whole
thing." However, he did not mean to give up the fight.

"I am extremely sorry to hear you say that, Dr. Claudius," he said
aloud, "and I hope you will change your mind, if I have to send you an
invitation every day until we sail. You know one does not ask people on
one's yacht unless one wants them very much, and we want you. It is just
like asking a man to ride your favourite hunter; you would not ask him
unless you meant it, for fear he would." The Duke seldom made so long a
speech, and Claudius felt that the invitation was really genuine, whic