" Again Dot wiped her eyes. "And I had so wanted him to
come," she ended.

"Don't fret," said Lucas very kindly. "I wanted him too."

She looked at him eagerly. "You think as I do? You think he cares
for Anne?"

"I guess so," he answered, "since your letter brought him back."

"And--and Anne? Do you think--do you really think--?"

"I guess so," he said again.

He lay silent for a while, his eyes drooping heavily, till she even began
to wonder if he were falling asleep.

At length, "Dot," he said, "have I your permission to make what use I
like of this?"

She gave a slight start. "You are going to tell Bertie?"

He looked at her. "My dear," he said, "I think Bertie had better know."

She nodded. "I know he ought. But he will be furious with me."

"Not if I talk to him," said Lucas, with his quiet smile.

"But it's so mean of me," she protested. "And I'm sure it's bad for you."

He reached out his hand to her. "No, it isn't bad for me, Dot. It's just
the best thing possible. You've put me in the way of something great."

She squeezed his hand. "Do you really think you can make things go
right?"

"Under God," said Lucas gravely.

CHAPTER XII

A FRIENDLY UNDERSTANDING

Notwithstanding Lucas's assurance, Dot awaited her husband's coming in
undisguised trepidation that night.

She had not seen Nap since that brief glimpse of him in the hall when
Anne had so nearly swooned. She did not so much as know if Bertie had
seen him at all. They had not met on the previous evening, but Bertie's
aspect had been so thunderous ever since he had heard of his return that
she had been on thorns lest he should present himself again at the Dower
House. That he would come sooner or later she knew, but she hoped with
all her heart that it might not be when Bertie was at home.

She was convinced, moreover, that Bertie was going to be very angry with
her, and her heart sank the more she thought of it. Bertie's anger had
become a hard thing to face since he had made her know the depths of his
tenderness.

The night was chilly, and her suspense made her cold. She sat very close
to the fire in the cosy curtained hall, shivering, and straining her
ears to catch the sound of his feet on the gravel. She had worked herself
into a state of anxiety that made her start at the faintest noise.

It was nearing the dinner-hour, and she was beginning to wonder if
perhaps he were staying at Baronmead to dine, though he had never