see you outside. I fancy that was the crux of the matter. Don't you
see? The whole affair shifted ground. Carroll has offered direct
disobedience. Oh, she's a bully little fighter!" he finished in admiring
accents. "You can't quite realise what she's doing for your sake; she's
not only fighting mother, but her own heart."

Orde found a note at the hotel, asking him to be in Washington Square at
half-past two.

Carroll met him with a bright smile.

"Things aren't quite right at home," she said. "It is a great shock to
poor mother at first, and she feels very strongly. Oh, it isn't you,
dear; it's the notion that I can care for anybody but her. You see,
she's been used to the other idea so long that I suppose it seemed a
part of the universe to her. She'll get used to it after a little, but
it takes time."

Orde examined her face anxiously. Two bright red spots burned on her
cheeks; her eyes flashed with a nervous animation, and a faint shade had
sketched itself beneath them.

"You had a hard time," he murmured, "you poor dear!"

She smiled up at him.

"We have to pay for the good things in life, don't we, dear? And they
are worth it. Things will come right after a little. We must not be too
impatient. Now, let's enjoy the day. The park isn't so bad, is it?"

At five o'clock Orde took her back to her doorstep, where he left her.

This went on for several days.

At the end of that time Orde could not conceal from himself that the
strain was beginning to tell. Carroll's worried expression grew from
day to day, while the animation that characterised her manner when
freed from the restraint became more and more forced. She was as though
dominated by some inner tensity, which she dared not relax even for a
moment. To Orde's questionings she replied as evasively as she could,
assuring him always that matters were going as well as she had expected;
that mother was very difficult; that Orde must have patience, for things
would surely come all right. She begged him to remain quiescent until
she gave him the word; and she implored it so earnestly that Orde,
though he chafed, was forced to await the turn of events. Every
afternoon she met him, from two to five. The situation gave little
opportunity for lovers' demonstrations. She seemed entirely absorbed by
the inner stress of the struggle she was going through, so that hardly
did she seem able to follow coherently even plans for the future. She
appeared, however, to g