t last Newhaven made a move. At breakfast, on Wednesday morning, he
announced that, reluctant as he should be to leave Poltons Park, he was
due at his aunt's place, in Kent, on Saturday evening, and must
therefore make his arrangements to leave by noon on that day. The
significance was apparent. Had he come down to breakfast with "Now or
Never!" stamped in fiery letters across his brow, it would have been
more obtrusive, indeed, but not a whit plainer. We all looked down at
our plates, except Jack Ives. He flung one glance (I saw it out of the
corner of my left eye) at Newhaven, another at Trix; then he remarked
kindly--

"We shall be uncommonly sorry to lose you, Newhaven."

Events began to happen now, and I will tell them as well as I am able,
supplementing my own knowledge by what I learnt afterwards from
Dora--she having learnt it from the actors in the scene. In spite of
the solemn warning conveyed in Newhaven's intimation, Trix, greatly
daring, went off immediately after lunch for what she described as 'a
long ramble' with Mr. Ives. There was, indeed, the excuse of an old
woman at the end of the ramble, and Trix provided Jack with a small
basket of comforts for the useful old body; but the ramble was, we
felt, the thing, and I was much annoyed at not being able to accompany
the walkers in the cloak of darkness or other invisible contrivance.
The ramble consumed three hours--full measure. Indeed, it was half-past
six before Trix alone, walked up the drive. Newhaven, a solitary
figure, paced up and down the terrace fronting the drive. Trix came on,
her head thrown back and a steady smile on her lips. She saw Newhaven:
he stood looking at her for a moment with what she afterwards described
as an indescribable smile on his face, but not, as Dora understood from
her, by any means a pleasant one. Yet, if not pleasant, there is not
the least doubt in the world that it was highly significant; for she
cried out nervously, "Why are you looking at me like that? What's the
matter?"

Newhaven, still saying nothing, turned his back on her and made as if
he would walk into the house and leave her there, ignored, discarded,
done with. She, realizing the crisis which had come, forgetting
everything except the imminent danger of losing him once for all,
without time for long explanation or any round--about seductions, ran
forward, laying her hand on his arm and blurting out, "But I've refused
him."

I do not know what Newhave