Romer started to go by himself for a five-mile walk, leaving Daphne, Valentia and Harry in the garden, but a nail in his boot hurt so much that, after the first half-mile, Romer decided he couldn't stand it any longer, and would walk back, go quietly in, and then surprise them by coming to tea in the garden.

He was gone a very short time, but he hastened his steps, looking forward immensely to the removal of the boot, and also to seeing Valentia again.

Lately he had been more than ever devoted to her. Ever since they had been at the Green Gate she had been specially gentle and charming—but not nearly so lively as usual. Sometimes she looked quite anxious and preoccupied. He thought, too, that she was occasionally irritable; which was unlike her—and her spirits varied continually.

He asked her one day what was the matter, and she assured him that there was nothing, so he believed her. But he was always thinking about her, trying to find some means to please her. He was dissatisfied about her.

He came back, went into his room, and his spirits incalculably raised by the cessation of the torture, he went and sat by the window, and looked out at the lovely garden.

It was a hot summer day; a little wind was in the trees.

Exactly under the window, on the little verandah, sat Harry with Valentia. Daphne was no longer there.

They were talking; and talking, it seemed to him, in an agitated way.

Leaning a little over he could see Valentia on a bamboo chair. To his horror he saw that she was crying.

Harry, speaking in a suppressed but rather angry voice, appeared to be trying to comfort her.

Without a second's hesitation or a moment's scruple, Romer intently listened. He did not hide or draw behind the curtain. He remained in full view, in the window, so that they could see him easily if they happened to look up. But they did not; they were far too much preoccupied.... He heard Harry speaking volubly, saying, in a tone of irritated apology and explanation—"My dear girl, I do wish to heaven you wouldn't take it like that. I haven't changed—I never shall. I don't care two straws about Miss Walmer. But really, it is such a splendid chance for me! You ought no more to expect me to give it up than any other good business opportunity that might crop up."

"I should never see you again," she answered, her voice broken by sobs.

"Yes, you would. We should be the same as ever. You know we can't do without each other. You're part of my life."

He spoke casually, but with irritation, as if mentioning a self-evident fact.

"Oh yes, you say that," she answered sadly. "But nothing could alter the fact that you wish to be treacherous, and throw me over—and just for money! It's simply degrading. It's all nonsense to say it will be just the same!"

"Well, of course—for a time—immediately after the marriage—it couldn't be; but it would gradually drift into very much the same."

"It wouldn't, even if it could, because I should never see you again," she repeated.

Harry stood up with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders raised.

Romer could see his face quite plainly, and wondered at its hard, selfish, almost cruel expression."Well, if you won't you won't," he said. "How can I waste all my life dangling after a woman who is married to somebody else? I should be only too delighted—if I could afford it. But I can't, and that's the brutal truth. And then, you know, there has been a little talk. That mother-in-law of yours has been gossiping about us. Some day, Romer's bound to get hold of it, and then where shall we be? Don't you see, dear," he went on more gently, "this will stop all that? Wouldn't it be better for me to be married—just in this official sort of way—to remain in England, and be able to see you just the same as ever—very soon—than to go out to the colonies or somewhere, and never see you again at all? There's no doubt I've got to do something. I'm in a frightful hole. Seven thousand a year—a place in the country—and a decent sort of girl, dropped down on me, as it were, from heaven! I hadn't the slightest idea of such luck—and hadn't any pretensions to it. But the girl has taken a liking to me, and her mother wants to get her married. It's ugly—unromantic—but there are the facts. If you cared for me really, I shouldn't think you would want to stand in my way."

"Very well, do it, then," she said, drying her eyes. "If you can speak in this heartless way it shows you are very different from what I believed you. But it will kill me; I shall never get over it."

She was rushing away when Harry caught her hand and stopped her.

"Listen," he said, in an impressive voice. "Go to your room, bathe your eyes, and calm yourself down. Make no more scenes, for heaven's sake, and we'll see what can be done."

"Oh, Harry, really—is there any hope? Or are you deceiving me again?"

"I've almost agreed to it, you know," he said. "Still, there's not what one could call an actual engagement yet. At any rate, it might be delayed. I'll see; I'll think—really if I weren't so hard up I wouldn't do it."

"Oh, Harry!" A gleam of joy came into her eyes, and she clasped her hands.

"Then you won't worry me any more about it for the next few days?" he asked.

"I promise;" and smiling sweetly through her tears she left him, going into the house. Her room, on the same floor as Romer's, was at the other end of the corridor, so she did not even pass his door, and had not the slightest idea that he was at home.

He was still at the window, looking out apparently at the garden.

Harry gave an impatient sigh, lit a cigarette and strolled off through the garden.It had been about three o'clock when Romer had come in and sat down by the window. He was still there in precisely the same position at seven, when his valet brought his hot water.

But Romer could not dress and go down to dinner. He could not see them till he had made up his mind what to do. He always thought slowly, and now he was acutely anxious to make no mistake. He felt that by the slightest wrong move he might lose Valentia altogether. That, at least, was his instinctive dread. He sent Valentia a message that he had to go up to London to see his mother, and would be back the next day. He arranged that she did not get the message till he was driving to the station—just before dinner.

He went up to London and stayed at an hotel, but did not go to his mother's, and thought nearly all night till he had made a resolution. Then he slept till nine o'clock, feeling much happier. He remembered clearly that Harry was coming to town and going to the studio on this day, as he often did. He calculated that he would be likely to arrive by the quick early morning train, and was standing waiting at the door of the studio at twelve o'clock when Harry drove up, looking intensely surprised, with hand outstretched, cordial and delighted."My dear fellow, how jolly of you to remember I was coming up! Come in, come in! I've only got this bothering business to attend to, then we'll lunch together, and go back by the four train, shall we? You won't have to stop on here, will you?"

"I don't know," said Romer, as he followed Harry.

"Your mother's not ill, I hope," said Harry, throwing himself into an arm-chair.

"I don't think so," said Romer; "she's at Bournemouth."

"Bournemouth! How like her! But you haven't been down there to see her?"

"No."

"Are you going?"

"Don't think so."

"Then it isn't your mother that brought you up to town, old chap?"

"No."

"Is anything wrong?" asked Harry, after a moment's pause.

It struck him that Romer looked very odd, and as he noted a slightly greyish tinge in Romer's face, he turned pale himself under his becoming sunburn.

"What is the matter?" repeated Harry, who could not be quiet. His weakness lay in the fact that he never, under any circumstances, could entirely "hold his tongue."

Romer put down his stick and hat, which he had been holding, took a chair exactly opposite Harry, stared him in the face, and said in a dry, hard voice, much less slowly than usual—

"There's something I wish you to do."

"You wish me to——"

"Yes. Write to Miss Walmer definitely breaking off your engagement."

"My—engagement?"

"I heard what you said yesterday afternoon. I came back from my walk—there was a nail in my boot. I heard every word from the window in my room."

"You listened?"

"Yes, I listened."

"Romer, my dear fellow, I swear to you that ..."

"Don't swear anything to me," said Romer quietly. "And don't dare to defend Valentia to me.... I advise you not."

Harry was silent, utterly bewildered.

"I find that your——friendship, instead of being a pleasure to her, is making her miserable. For some reason she likes to have you about. She doesn't wish you to marry Miss Walmer. Well, you shan't! Do you hear that? You shan't! You're not going to marry that girl and then come dangling about again."

He waited a minute and then said—

"Valentia's got to be happy. You're not going to have everything you want. You can surely make a little sacrifice to be her friend!" Then for one moment only Romer nearly lost his control. He said—

"We've been married five years, and I've never said a word or done a thing that she didn't like. And you made her cry. You! You made her cry!"

"My dear Romer, I assure you it's all ..."

Romer interrupted him in a low voice, impatiently.

"Oh, shut up, will you? I want no talk or discussion. I want only one thing. You're to write immediately, definitely putting an end to this engagement. While you write the letter I'll wait, and then I'll post it myself. Will you do it?"

"My dear fellow, of course I'll do anything. But how strange you are! I should have thought——"

"I don't want to know what you would have thought, and I don't care a straw what you think of my attitude. On condition you do what I say, I shall never refer to the subject again, and everything shall be as it has been."Harry was obviously greatly relieved.

"I will do whatever you wish," he said, looking and feeling ashamed of himself.

Seeing that Romer was evidently in a hurry for the letter, he drew writing materials to him.

Then Romer said—

"One more thing. You are not to tell Valentia anything about this. She's not to know I overheard. I won't have her distressed. Remember that."

"I give you my word of honour," said Harry.

"Very well. And when I've posted the letter we'll wipe out the whole thing. Don't even say you saw me in town."

"Of course I won't."

As Harry bent his head low over the writing-table, Romer, who was sitting motionless, looked at a curious dagger that was hanging on the wall, with a horrible sudden longing to plunge it in Harry's neck.... Horrified at his own fancy, he looked away from it and thought of Valentia. Valentia would smile and be happy now, and everything would go smoothly again. He would not have to say anything painful to her; she would never be uncomfortable in his presence. In time she would probably grow tired of Harry and could turn to him, Romer, again, with more affection than if anything painful had passed between them.... His attitude had been extraordinarily unselfish, and yet it had its root in the deep scheming selfishness and subtle calculation of the passion of love. To get Valentia back, as he vaguely hoped, some time, however distant, he had acted most wisely, and he knew it. For he cared for her far too much ever to have conventional thoughts on the subject. It never even occurred to him to try to act as the husband ought to act, or as by the incessant insidious influence of plays and novels most of us have been brought up to think he ought to act. Most people are far more guided than they know in their views of life by the artificial conventions of the theatre and of literature, or by tradition. In fact, most people are other people. Romer was himself. He thought simply for himself, like a child. And so it happened that he acted in a crisis terrible to him, more wisely for his own interest than the most sophisticated of men....

"Here is the letter. Will you read it?"

Romer read it and put it back in the envelope. Then he said—

"All right. You're going back to the Green Gate this afternoon?"

"If I may.""I shall be back to-morrow," said Romer, in his ordinary voice.

Harry accompanied him to the door and held out his hand.

Romer hesitated a moment. Then he said—

"Good-bye," with a nod, and went away, taking no notice of it.

"By Jove!" said Harry, to himself.