Now that she had seen her, Isobel’s ideas were altogether bouleversee.  Never for a single instant would she have imagined that a woman of Nan’s type—­artistic, emotional, elusive—­could attract a man like Roger Trenby.  The fact remained, however, that Nan had succeeded where hitherto she herself had failed, and Isobel’s dreams of a secure future had come tumbling about her ears.  She realised bitterly that love is like quicksilver, running this way or that at its own sweet will—­and rarely into the channel we have ordained for it.

CHAPTER XV

KING ARTHUR’S CASTLE

The first person whom Nan encountered on her return from Trenby Hall was Mrs. Seymour.  The latter’s eyebrows lifted quizzically.

“Well?” she asked.  “How did it go?”

“It didn’t ‘go’ at all!” answered Nan.  “I was enveloped in an atmosphere of severe disapproval.  In fact, I think Lady Gertrude considers I require quite a long course of training before I’m fitted to be Roger’s wife.”

“Nonsense!” Kitty smiled broadly.

“Seriously”—­nodding.  “Apparently the kind of wife she really wants for him is a combination of the doormat and fetch-and-carry person who always stays at home, and performs her wifely and domestic duties in a spirit of due subservience.”

“She’ll live and learn, then, my dear, when she has you for a daughter-in-law,” commented Kitty drily.

“I think I’m a bit fed up with ‘in-laws,’” returned Nan a trifle wearily.  “I’ll go out and walk it off.  Or, better still, lend me your bike, Kitty, and I’ll just do a spin to Tintagel.  By the time I’ve climbed up to King Arthur’s Castle, I’ll feel different.  It always makes me feel good to get to the top of anywhere.”

“But, my dear, it’s five o’clock already!  You won’t have time to go there before dinner.”

“Yes, I shall,” persisted Nan.  “Half an hour to get there—­easily!  An hour for the castle, half an hour for coming back, and then just time enough to skip into a dinner-frock. . . .  I must go, really, Kitten,” she went on with a note of urgency in her voice.  “That appalling drawing-room at Trenby and almost equally appalling dining-room have got into my system, and I want to blow the germs away.”  She gesticulated expressively.

“All right, you ridiculous person, take my bicycle then,” replied Kitty good-humouredly.  “But what will you do when you have to live in those rooms?”

“Why, I shall alter them completely, of course.  I foresee myself making the Hall ‘livable in’ throughout the first decade of my married existence!”—­with a small grimace of disgust.

A few minutes later Nan was speeding along the road to Tintagel, the cool air, salt with brine from the incoming tide, tingling against her face.