ctual relation there
seemed to be some important ingredient left out. Of course Lancelot was
guilty and Estelle had never for a moment intended Lionel to be guilty,
but on the other hand Lancelot was in love with the Queen.

This quality was really essential.

Lancelot had had a great affection for the King of course, but that had
been subsidiary; and this was what puzzled Estelle most, was Lionel's
feeling for her subsidiary to his feeling for Winn?

Lionel was delightful to her; he waited on her hand and foot; he studied
all her tastes and remembered everything she told him. Could playing
polo with Winn, going out for walks in the rain, and helping to make
saddles in Winn's musty, smelling den appeal to him with greater force
than her society? He wasn't in love with any one else, and if men
weren't in love with any one else, they were usually in love with
Estelle. But with Lionel everything stopped short. They conversed
confidentially, they used each other's Christian names, but she was left
with the sensation of having come up against an invisible barrier. There
was no impact, and there was no curtness; there was simply empty space.
She was not even sure that Lionel would have liked her at all if she
hadn't been Winn's wife. As it was, he certainly wanted her friendship
and took pains to win it. It must be added that he won more than he took
pains to win. Estelle for the first time in her life stumbled waveringly
into a little love.

The visit prolonged itself from a week to a fortnight. Estelle did not
sleep the night before Lionel went. She tossed feverishly to and fro,
planning their parting. Surely he would not leave her without a word?
Surely there must be some touch of sentiment to this separation,
horrible and inevitable, that lay before them?

She remembered afterwards that as she lay in the dark and foresaw her
loneliness she wondered if she wouldn't after all risk the Indian
frontier to be near him? She was subsequently glad she had decided that
she wouldn't.

It was a very wet morning, and Lionel was to leave before lunch. Winn
went as usual into his study to play with his eternal experiments in
leather. Lionel went with him. She heard the two men laughing together
down the passage. Could real friends have laughed if they had minded
parting with each other?

She sat at her desk in the drawing-room biting nervously at her pen. He
was going; was it possible that there would be no farewell?

Just so