ivia couldn't leave him behind. Anything that will make her
happy--"

"Will make you happy."

"That's about the size of it."

Having locked the last drawer and put out the desk light, Temple led his
guest down the long gallery and across the Yard to the house on
Charlesbank. Here Ashley pursued kindred themes in the company of Mrs.
Fane, finding himself alone with her at tea. He was often alone with her
at tea, her father having no taste for this form of refreshment, while
her mother found reasons for being absent.

"Queer old cove, your governor," Ashley observed, stretching himself
comfortably before the fire. The blaze of logs alone lit up the room.

"Is that why you seem to have taken a fancy to him?"

"I like to hear him gassing. Little bit like the Bible, don't you know."

"He's very fond of the Bible."

"Seems to think a lot of that chap--your governor."

A nod supposed to indicate the direction of the State of Michigan
enabled her to follow his line of thought.

"He does. There's something rather colossal about the way he's dropped
out--"

"A jolly sight too colossal. Makes him more important than if he'd
stayed on the spot and fought the thing to a finish."

"Fought what thing to a finish?"

He was sorry to have used the expression. "Oh, there's still a jolly lot
to settle up, you know."

"But I thought everything was arranged--that you'd accepted the
situation."

He stretched himself more comfortably before the fire. "We'd a row," he
said, suddenly.

"A row? What kind of a row?"

"A street row--just like two hooligans. He struck me."

"Rupert!" She half sprang up. "He--"

Ashley swung round in his chair. He was smiling.

"Oh, I _beg_ your pardon," she cried, in confusion. "I can't think what
made me call you that. I never _do_--never. It was the surprise--and the
shock--"

"That's all right," he assured her. "I often call you Drusilla when I'm
talking to Olivia. I don't see why we shouldn't--we've always been such
pals--and we're going to be a kind of cousins--"

"Tell me about Peter."

"Oh, there's nothing much that stands telling. We were two idiots--two
silly asses. I insulted him--and he struck out. I called him a cad--I
believe I called him a damned cad."

"To his _face_?"

"To his _nose_."

"Oh, you shouldn't have done that."

"And he got mad, by Jove! Oh, it didn't last. We pulled off in a second
or two. We saw we were two idiots--two kids. It wasn't worth getting on