arried out at once. He felt that he could not wait a
moment. He would have liked to have had them all there, before him,
to-night.

"Why, by this time to-morrow, old boy, it will all be straight. Thank
God, my brain cleared, in spite of this damn weather."

He rang the bell and Peters, large, solemn, but bending a loving eye
upon his master, appeared.

"Writing things, Peters."

He wrote swiftly two notes.

"Very close to-night, sir."

"Yes, Peters, very."

"You're looking better, sir ... less tired. Your dinner will be up in a
quarter of an hour. Nice omelette, nice little bird, nice fruit salad,
sardines on toast."

"Thank you, Peters, I'm hungry as--as anything."

"Very glad to hear it, sir."

"I want these two notes sent by hand instantly, do you see?"

"Yes, Sir Rod'rick."

"At once."

"Yes, Sir Rod'rick."

Roddy lay back and surveyed the black sky.

"Nasty storm comin' up--look here, Peters, give me that bird book over
there. That big one. Thanks."

Peters retired.

III

Meanwhile Her Grace had found this close evening very trying. That visit
to Roddy had not harmed her physically, but had made her restless. The
very fact that it had not hurt her, urged her to have more of such
evenings. Having shown them once what she could do she would like to
show them all again, and yet with this new energy was also lethargy so
that she sat, thinking about her adventures, but felt that it would be
difficult to move.

Then this thundery afternoon really did drag the strength from her. She
allowed her fire to fall into a few golden coals, she allowed Dorchester
to move her from her high-back chair on to a sofa that was near the wide
window, now flung open. She could see roofs, chimneys, towers of
churches, all dingy grey beneath the leaden sky.

She lay there, a book on her lap, but not reading; she was thinking of
Roddy. For perhaps the very first time in all her life she regretted
something that she had done. Nobody but Roddy could have called this
regret out of her and now, she would confess it to no living soul, but
she lay there, thinking about it, remembering every movement and gesture
of his, seeing always that, at the end, he had wanted her to go, had, as
her sharp old eyes had seen, hurried her away.

There had been so splendid a chance, she had shown her love for him so
magnificently that he could not but have been touched and moved had she
only left Rachel alone. Ah! that girl! again, a