."

"Maggie," said the boy quietly, "you must let me alone. You can't
help."

"Can't I?"

"You can't help," he repeated. "I must go my own way. Please don't say
any more. I can't stand it."

There followed a dead silence. Then Maggie recovered and stood up. He
rose with her.

"Forgive me, Laurie, won't you? I must say this. You'll remember I'll
always do anything I can, won't you?"

Then she was gone.

IV

The ladies went to bed early at Stantons. At ten o'clock precisely a
clinking of bedroom candlesticks was heard in the hall, followed by
the sound of locking doors. This was the signal. Mrs. Baxter laid
aside her embroidery with the punctuality of a religious at the sound
of a bell, and said two words--

"My dears."

There were occasionally exclamatory expostulations from the two at the
piquet-table, but in nine cases out of ten the game had been designed
with an eye upon the clock, and hardly any delay followed. Mrs. Baxter
kissed her son, and passed her arm through Maggie's. Laurie followed;
gave them candles, and generally took one himself.

But this evening there was no piquet. Laurie had stayed later than
usual in the dining-room, and had wandered rather restlessly about
when he had joined the others. He looked at a London evening paper for
a little, paced about, vanished again, and only returned as the ladies
were making ready to depart. Then he gave them their candlesticks, and
himself came back to the drawing room.

He was, in fact, in a far more perturbed and excited mood than even
Maggie had had any idea of. She had interrupted him half-way through
the book, but he had read again steadily until five minutes before
dinner, and had, indeed, gone back again to finish it afterwards. He
had now finished it; and he wanted to think.

It had had a surprising effect on him, coming as it did upon a state
of mind intensely stirred to its depths by his sorrow. Crossness, as I
have said, had been the natural psychological result of his emotions;
but his emotions were none the less real. The froth of whipped cream
is real cream, after all.

Now Laurie had seen perfectly well the extreme unconvincingness of
Mrs. Stapleton, and had been genuine enough in his little shrug of
disapproval in answer to Maggie's, after lunch; yet that lady's
remarks had been sufficient just to ignite the train of thought. This
train had smoldered in the afternoon, had been fanned ever so slightly
by two breezes--the sense