But Romer could not dress and go down to dinner. He could not see them
till he had made up his mind what to do. He always thought slowly, and
now he was acutely anxious to make no mistake. He felt that by the
slightest wrong move he might lose Valentia altogether. That, at least,
was his instinctive dread. He sent Valentia a message that he had to go
up to London to see his mother, and would be back the next day. He
arranged that she did not get the message till he was driving to the
station--just before dinner.

He went up to London and stayed at an hotel, but did not go to his
mother's, and thought nearly all night till he had made a resolution.
Then he slept till nine o'clock, feeling much happier. He remembered
clearly that Harry was coming to town and going to the studio on this
day, as he often did. He calculated that he would be likely to arrive by
the quick early morning train, and was standing waiting at the door of
the studio at twelve o'clock when Harry drove up, looking intensely
surprised, with hand outstretched, cordial and delighted.

"My dear fellow, how jolly of you to remember I was coming up! Come in,
come in! I've only got this bothering business to attend to, then we'll
lunch together, and go back by the four train, shall we? You won't have
to stop on here, will you?"

"I don't know," said Romer, as he followed Harry.

"Your mother's not ill, I hope," said Harry, throwing himself into an
arm-chair.

"I don't think so," said Romer; "she's at Bournemouth."

"Bournemouth! How like her! But you haven't been down there to see her?"

"No."

"Are you going?"

"Don't think so."

"Then it isn't your mother that brought you up to town, old chap?"

"No."

"Is anything wrong?" asked Harry, after a moment's pause.

It struck him that Romer looked very odd, and as he noted a slightly
greyish tinge in Romer's face, he turned pale himself under his becoming
sunburn.

"What is the matter?" repeated Harry, who could not be quiet. His
weakness lay in the fact that he never, under any circumstances, could
entirely "hold his tongue."

Romer put down his stick and hat, which he had been holding, took a
chair exactly opposite Harry, stared him in the face, and said in a dry,
hard voice, much less slowly than usual--

"There's something I wish you to do."

"You wish me to----"

"Yes. Write to Miss Walmer definitely breaking off your engagement."

"My--engagement?"

"I heard what you said yesterda