he did not falter. He was
reading a letter in the hall when she came downstairs; he was very
much aware of her, but pretended not to be. She stood on the bottom
stair looking at him with wide and fixed eyes; but he would not look
up. He was not just then in a mood either to make advances or to
receive them. His grievance was heavy upon him.

"James," said Lucy, "I've been listening for you."

"Too good," said he, and went on with his letter.

"I wanted to tell you that I don't think--that I don't much want to go
to Norway."

Then he did look up, keenly, with a drawn appearance about his mouth,
showing his teeth. "Eh?" he said. "Oh, absurd." He occupied himself
with his letter, folding it for its envelope, while she watched him
with a pale intensity which ought to have told him, and perhaps did
tell him, what she was suffering.

"I don't think you should call me absurd," she said. "I was never very
certain of it."

"But, my dearest child, you made me certain, at any rate," he told
her. "You made everybody certain. So much so that I have the tickets
in my pocket at this moment."

"I'm very sorry. I could pay for mine, of course--and I'm sure Vera
would look after Lancelot. I wouldn't disappoint him for the world."

"What are you going to tell Urquhart?" said James. Her eyes paled.

"I believe that he would take it very simply," she said. James plunged
his hands into his pockets. He thought that they were on the edge of
the gulf.

"Look here, Lucy," he said; "hadn't you better tell me something more
about this? Perhaps you will come into the library for a few minutes."
He led the way without waiting for her, and she stood quaking where
she was.

She was making matters worse: she saw that now. Naturally she couldn't
tell James the real state of the case, because that would involve her
in history. James would have to understand that he had been believed
to have wooed her when he had done nothing of the kind. That was a
thing which nothing in the world would bring her to reveal to him. And
if she left that out and confined herself to her own feelings for
Urquhart--how was all that to be explained? Was it fair to herself, or
to Urquhart, to isolate the flowering of an affair unless you could
show the germinating of it? Certainly it wasn't fair to herself--as
for Urquhart, it may be that he didn't deserve any generous treatment.
She knew that there was no defence for him, though plenty of
excuse--possibly. No--sh