No doubt, later on, the thought of Isobel in the new light presented by his mother would recur to his mind, but for the moment he was entirely preoccupied with the matter of Nan’s portrait and his determination to put an end to the sittings.

It would be quite easy, he decided.  The only thing that stood in the way of his immediately carrying out his plan, was the fact that he had promised to go away the following morning on a few days’ fishing expedition, together with Barry Seymour and the two Fentons.  The realisation that Maryon Rooke would probably spend the best part of those few days in Nan’s company set the blood pounding furiously through his veins.  His decision was taken instantly.  The fishing party must go without him.

As a natural sequence to his engagement to Nan he had an open invitation to Mallow, and this evening he availed himself of it by motoring across to dinner there.  The question of the fishing party was easily disposed of on the plea of unexpected estate matters which required his supervision.  Barry brushed his apologies aside.

“My dear chap, it doesn’t matter a scrap.  We three’ll go as arranged and you must join us on our next jaunt.  Kitty’ll be here to look after Nan,” he added, smiling good-naturedly.  “She hates fishing—­it bores her stiff.”

After dinner Roger made an opportunity to broach the matter of the portrait to Nan.

“When’s Rooke going to finish that portrait of you?” he asked her.  “He’s taking an unconscionable time over it.”

She coloured a little under the suspicion she read in his eyes.

“I—­I think he’ll finish it to-morrow,” she stammered.  “It’s nearly done, you know.”

“So I should think.  I’ll see him about it.  I’m going to buy the thing.”

“To—­to buy it?”—­nervously.

“Yes.”  His keen eyes flashed over her.  “Is there anything extraordinary in a man’s purchasing the portrait of his future wife?”

“No.  Oh, no.  Only I don’t fancy Maryon painted it with any idea of selling it.”

“And I didn’t allow you to sit for it with any idea of his keeping it,” retorted Roger grimly.

Nan remained silent, feeling that further discussion of the matter while he was in his present humour would serve no purpose.  The curt, almost hectoring manner of his speech irritated her, while the jealousy from which it sprang made no appeal to her by way of an excuse, as it might have done had she loved him.  She was glad when the evening came to an end, but she was still in a sore and angry frame of mind when she joined Rooke in the music-room the following day.

He speedily divined that something had occurred to ruffle her, and without endeavouring to elicit the cause—­possibly he felt he could make a pretty good guess at it!—­he set himself to amuse and entertain her.  He was so far successful in his efforts that before very long she had almost forgotten her annoyance of the previous evening and was deep in a discussion regarding the work of a certain modern composer.