tely avenge it. There was still something terrifying in
the idea of going out to do battle with Vincent. Hitherto in their
quarrels he had always been the aggressor, had always startled her out of
an innocent calm by an accusation or complaint. But this, as she said to
herself, was not a quarrel, but a readjustment, of which probably he was
still unaware. She hoped he was. She hoped he would come in with his
accustomed manner and say civilly, "Forgive me for shutting the door; but
my reason was--"

And she would answer, "Really, I don't think we need trouble about your
reasons, Vincent." She knew just the tone she would use, just the
expression of a smile suppressed. Then his quick eyes would fasten
themselves on her face, and perhaps at the first glance would read the
story of his defeat. She knew her own glance would not waver.

At the end of half an hour she heard the low tones of conversation change
to the brisk notes of leave-taking. Her heart began to beat with fear,
but not the kind of fear that makes people run away; rather the kind that
makes them abdicate all reason and fan their emotions into a sort of
inspiring flame.

She heard the door open into the corridor, but even then Vincent did not
immediately come. Miss Gregory had been waiting to say good-by to him. As
a case he was finished. Adelaide heard her clear voice say gaily:

"Well, I'm off, Mr. Vincent."

They went back into the room and shut the door. Adelaide clenched her
hands; these delays were hard to bear.

It was not a long delay, though in that next room a very human bond
was about to be broken. Possibly if Vincent had done exactly what
his impulses prompted, he would have taken Miss Gregory in his arms
and kissed her. But instead he said quietly, for his manner had not
much range:

"I shall miss you."

"It's time I went."

"To some case more interestingly dangerous?"

"Your case was dangerous enough for me," said the girl; and then for fear
he might miss her meaning, "I never met any one like you, Mr. Farron."

"I've never been taken care of as you took care of me."

"I wish"--she looked straight up at him--"I could take care of you
altogether."

"That," he answered, "would end in my taking care of you."

"And your hands are pretty full as it is?"

He nodded, and she went away without even shaking hands. She omitted her
farewells to any other member of the family except Pringle, who, Farron
heard, was congratulating her on her