“What is it?”

“The cure?  You have partly suggested it yourself.  You must go at once and take your passage in a sailing ship for Australia.  You can stay there for a time and examine the colony; of course you’ll write a book about it, like everybody else.  Then you make your way to San Francisco, and accept a three-months’ engagement there.  You come on to New York, and accept a three-months’ engagement there.  And when you return to England you will find that all your troubles have vanished, and that you are once again the Linn Moore we all of us used to know.”

A wild fancy flashed through Lionel’s brain; what if in these far wanderings he were suddenly to encounter Nina?  In vain—­in vain; Nina had become for him but a shadow, a ghost, with no voice to call to him from any sphere.

“You would have me run away?—­I don’t see how I can do that,” he said, quietly; and then he abruptly changed the subject.  “What did you think of Lady Adela?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve been wondering whether she were at the same time a smart and clever woman and an abject fool, or whether she were simply smart and clever and thought me an abject fool.  It must be either one or the other.  She played the literary ingenue very well—­a little too openly, perhaps.  I’m curious about her book—­”

“Oh, don’t judge of her by her book!” Lionel exclaimed.  “That isn’t fair.  Her book you may very likely consider foolish—­not at all.  I suppose her head is a little bit turned by the things that Quirk and those fellows have been writing about her; but that’s only natural.  And if she showed her hand a little too freely in trying to interest you in her novel, you must remember how eager she is to succeed.  You’ll do what you can for her book—­won’t you, Maurice?”

Maurice Mangan, on his way home that night, had other things to think of than Lady Adela’s poor little book.  He saw clearly enough the embroilment into which Lionel had landed himself; but he could not see so clearly how he was to get out of it.  One question he forgot to ask:  what had induced that mood of petulance or recklessness, or both combined, in which Lionel had wilfully and madly pledged all his future life?  However, the thing was done; here was his friend going forward to a mariage de convenance (where there was very little convenance, to be sure) with a sort of careless indifference, if not of bravado; while his bride, on the other hand, might surely be pardoned if she resented, and indignantly resented, his attitude towards her.  What kind of prospect was this for two young people?  Maurice thought that on the very first opportunity he would go away down to Winstead and talk the matter over with Francie; who than she more capable of advising in aught concerning Lionel’s welfare?