ld never take
his chance; there could be no opportunity for the truth to become clear
to both; for in his plate-armour of despair he was shielded against the
world. Such was his condition to the eyes of a friend; to himself he
was the common hopeless lover who sighed for a stony mistress.

He noticed changes in Glenavelin. Businesslike leather pouches stood in
the hall, and an unwontedly large pile of letters lay on a table. The
drawing-room was the same as ever, but in the dining-room an escritoire
had been established which groaned under a burden of papers. Mr.
Wishart puzzled and repelled him. It was a strong face, but a cold and
a stupid one, and his eyes had the glassy hardness of the man without
vision. He was bidden welcome, and thanked in a tactless way for his
kindness to Mr. Wishart's daughter. Then he was presented to Mrs.
Andrews, and his courage sank as he bowed to her.

At table the lady twitted him with graceful badinage. "Alice and you
must have had a gay time, Mr. Haystoun. Why, you've been seeing each
other constantly for months. Have you become great friends?" She
exerted herself, for, though he might be a parvenu, he was undeniably
handsome.

Mr. Stocks explained that Mr. Haystoun had organized wonderful picnic
parties. The lady clapped her many-ringed hands, and declared that he
must repeat the experiment. "For I love picnics," she said, "I love the
simplicity and the fresh air and the rippling streams. And washing up
is fun, and it is such a great chance for you young men." And she cast a
coy glance over her shoulder.

"Do you live far off, Mr. Haystoun?" she asked repeatedly. "Four
miles? Oh, that's next door. We shall come and see you some day. We
have just been staying with the Marshams--Mr. Marsham, you know, the
big cotton people. Very vulgar, but the house is charming. It was so
exciting, for the elections were on, and the Hestons, who are the great
people in that part of the country, were always calling. Dear Lady
Julia is so clever. Did you ever meet Mr. Marsham, by any chance?"

"Not that I remember. I know the Hestons of course. Julia is my
cousin."

The lady was silenced. "But I thought," she murmured. "I thought--they
were--" She broke off with a cough.

"Yes, I spent a good many of my school holidays at Heston."

Alice broke in with a question about the Manorwaters. The youthful Mr.
Thompson, who, apart from his solicitor's profession, was a devotee of
cricket, asked in a lof