“It is a pity that mere beauty is not edible,” said Lee, gravely, “and that if the worst comes to the worst here you would probably prefer me to Ned and his moustachios, merely because I’ve been tied by the leg to this sofa and slowly fattened like a Strasbourg goose.”

Nevertheless, his badinage failed somehow to amuse Kate, and she presently excused herself to rejoin her sister, who had already slipped from the room.  For the first time during their enforced seclusion a sense of restraint and uneasiness affected Mrs. Hale, her sister, and Falkner at dinner.  The latter addressed himself to Mrs. Scott, almost entirely.  Mrs. Hale was fain to bestow an exceptional and marked tenderness on her little daughter Minnie, who, however, by some occult childish instinct, insisted upon sharing it with Lee—­her great friend—­to Mrs. Hale’s uneasy consciousness.  Nor was Lee slow to profit by the child’s suggestion, but responded with certain vicarious caresses that increased the mother’s embarrassment.  That evening they retired early, but in the intervals of a restless night Kate was aware, from the sound of voices in the opposite room, that the friends were equally wakeful.

A morning of bright sunshine and soft warm air did not, however, bring any change to their new and constrained relations.  It only seemed to offer a reason for Falkner to leave the house very early for his daily rounds, and gave Lee that occasion for unaided exercise with an extempore crutch on the veranda which allowed Mrs. Hale to pursue her manifold duties without the necessity of keeping him company.  Kate also, as if to avoid an accidental meeting with Falkner, had remained at home with her sister.  With one exception, they did not make their guests the subject of their usual playful comments, nor, after the fashion of their sex, quote their ideas and opinions.  That exception was made by Mrs. Hale.

“You have had no difference with Mr. Falkner?” she said carelessly.

“No,” said Kate quickly.  “Why?”

“I only thought he seemed rather put out at dinner last night, and you didn’t propose to go and meet him to-day.”

“He must be bored with my company at times, I dare say,” said Kate, with an indifference quite inconsistent with her rising color.  “I shouldn’t wonder if he was a little vexed with Mr. Lee’s chaffing him about his sport yesterday, and probably intends to go further to-day, and bring home larger game.  I think Mr. Lee very amusing always, but I sometimes fancy he lacks feeling.”

“Feeling!  You don’t know him, Kate,” said Mrs. Hale quickly.  She stopped herself, but with a half-smiling recollection in her dropped eyelids.

“Well, he doesn’t look very amiable now, stamping up and down the veranda.  Perhaps you’d better go and soothe him.”

“I’m really so busy just now,” said Mrs. Hale, with sudden and inconsequent energy; “things have got dreadfully behind in the last week.  You had better go, Kate, and make him sit down, or he’ll be overdoing it.  These men never know any medium—­in anything.”