answer, but he
merely smiled, and told me not to keep them waiting. Gladys came in to
luncheon, and took her usual place; but neither she nor Eric made much
pretence of eating, though Mr. Hamilton scolded them both for their want
of appetite. Nobody talked much, and there was no connected conversation:
I think we were all too much engrossed in watching Gladys. Max was in the
background for once, but he did not seem to think of himself at all: the
sight of Gladys's sweet face, radiant with joy, was sufficient pleasure
for him; but now and then she turned to him in a touching manner, as
though to show she had not forgotten him, and then he was never slow
to respond.

When luncheon was over, Mr. Hamilton begged me to take Gladys to the
turret-room and persuade her to lie down.

'I am going to send Cunliffe away until dinner-time,' he said, with
a sort of good-natured peremptoriness: 'under the circumstances he is
decidedly _de trop_. Yes, my dear, yes,' as Gladys looked pleadingly at
him, 'Eric shall come and talk to you. I am not so unreasonable as that.'
And I think we all understood the feeling that made Gladys put her arms
round her brother's neck, though we none of us heard her whisper a word.
Max consented very cheerfully to efface himself for the remainder of the
afternoon, and Gladys accompanied me upstairs. I waited until Eric joined
us, and then I left them together.

'Oh, Gladys, he was so good, and I did not deserve it!' he burst out
before I had closed the door. 'I never knew Giles could be like that.'
But I took care not to hear any more. I hardly knew what to do with
myself that afternoon, but I made up my mind at last that I would finish
a letter I had begun to Jill. The inkstand was in the turret-room, but I
thought I would fetch one out of the drawing-room; but when I reached
the head of the staircase I drew back involuntarily, for Mr. Hamilton was
standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall with
folded arms, as though he were waiting for somebody or something. An
unaccountable timidity made me hesitate; in another second I should have
gone back into my room, but he looked up, and, as before, our eyes met.

'Come,' he said, holding out his hand, and there was a sort of impatience
in his manner. 'How long are you going to keep me waiting, Ursula?' And I
went down demurely and silently, but I took no notice of his outstretched
hands.

I was trying to pass him in a quiet, ordinary fa