“Come and say good-bye to Lucas,” said Bertie.  “He is up and asking for you.”

So, with an impetuous hand upon Anne’s arm, he whisked her away on the following morning to his brother’s room.  She was dressed for departure, and waiting for the motor that was to take her home.  Of Nap she had seen nothing.  He had a way of absenting himself from meals whenever it suited him to do so.  She wondered if he meant to let her go without farewell.

She found the master of the house lying on a couch sorting his correspondence.  He pushed everything aside at her entrance.

“Come in, Lady Carfax!  I am glad not to have missed you.  A pity you have to leave so soon.”

“I only wish I could stop longer,” Anne said.  He looked up at her, holding her hand, his shrewd blue eyes full of the most candid friendliness.

“You will come again, I hope, when you can,” he said.

“Thank you,” she answered gently.

He still held her hand.  “And if at any time you need the help—­or comfort—­of friends,” he said, “you won’t forget where to look?”

“Thank you,” she said again.

“Is Nap driving you?” he asked.

“No,” said Bertie.  “Nap’s skiing.”

“Then you, Bertie—­”

“My dear fellow,” said Bertie, “I’m fearfully sorry, but I can’t.  You understand, don’t you, Lady Carfax?  I would if I could, but—­” his excuses trailed off unsatisfactorily.

He turned very red and furiously jabbed at the fire with his boot.

“Please don’t think of it,” said Anne.  “I am so used to being alone.  In fact, your mother wanted to come with me, but I dissuaded her.”

“Then I conclude it is useless for me to offer myself as an escort?” said Lucas.

“Yes, quite useless,” she smiled, “though I am grateful to you all the same.  Good-bye, Mr. Errol!”

“Good-bye!” he said.

As Bertie closed the door behind her he took up a letter from the heap at his elbow; but his eyes remained fixed for several seconds.

At length:  “Bertie,” he said, without looking up, “are you due at the Rectory this morning?”

“This afternoon,” said Bertie.

He also bent over the pile of correspondence and began to sort.  He often did secretarial work for Lucas.

Lucas suffered him for some seconds longer.  Then, “You don’t generally behave like a boor, Bertie,” he said.

“Oh, confound it!” exclaimed Bertie, with vehemence.  “You don’t suppose I enjoyed letting her think me a cad, do you?”

“I don’t suppose she did,” Lucas said thoughtfully.

“Well, you do anyway, which is worse.”

Bertie slapped down the letters and walked to the fire.

Lucas returned without comment to the paper in his hand.

After a long pause Bertie wheeled.  He came back to his brother’s side and pulled up a chair.  His brown face was set in stern lines.