shrugged her shoulders. "You seem to get them anyway."

Maddening!

And then he thought, "I'm not going to let it be maddening. This is just
what happens." He said, "Well, this is silly. I've known her--we've
known one another--for years, since we were children, pretty well. She's
called me by my Christian name since I can remember. You must have heard
her. We don't see much of her--perhaps you haven't. I thought you had.
Anyway, dash the thing. What does it matter?"

"It doesn't _matter_"--she launched a flower into a vase--"a bit. I only
think it's funny, that's all."

"Well, it's just her way."

Mabel gave a little sniff. He thought it was over. But it wasn't over.
"If you ask me, I call it a funny letter. You say your Christian name,
but it isn't your Christian name--_Marko_! And then saying, 'How are
you?' like that--"

"Like what? She just said it, didn't she?"

"Yes I know. And then 'Nona.' Don't you call that funny?"

"Well, I always used to call her 'Nona.' She'd have thought it funny, as
you call it, to put anything else. I tell you it's just her way."

"Well, I think it's a very funny way and I think anybody else would
think so. I don't like her. I never did like her."

There seemed no more to say.

IV

He walked up to his room. He closed the door behind him and sat on a
straight-backed chair, his legs outthrust. Failure? He had come back
home thus suddenly with immensely good intentions. Failure? On the
whole, no. There was a great deal more he could have said downstairs,
and a great deal more he had felt uncommonly inclined to say. But he had
left the morning room without saying it, and that was good; that
redeemed his sudden return from absolute failure.

Why had he returned? He "worked back" through the morning on the Fargus
principle. Not because of his thoughts after the Twyning business; not
because of the disturbance of the Twyning business. No. He had returned
because he had seen Nona. Thoughts--feelings--had been stirred within
him by meeting her. And it had suddenly been rather hateful to have
those thoughts and to feel that--that Mabel had no place in them.

Well, why had he come up here? What was he doing up here? Well, it
hadn't been altogether successful. Mabel hadn't been particularly
excited to see him. No, but that didn't count. Why should she be? He had
gone off after breakfast, glum as a bear. Well, then there was that
niggling business over why he had returned. Always l