ther on every subject under heaven, so he rubbed
in Sir James's opposition, and gradually worked on her sentimental side
until she was almost tearfully enthusiastic.

"How shall I behave? Go right in and tell your father he must
consent?--or what?"

"Play for safety," said Savile.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE TWELFTH HOUR

Sir James was extremely annoyed with the weather. In his young days, as
he remarked with bitterness, spring was spring, and it didn't thunder
and snow in April. He was prattling pompously of the sunshine in the
past, when a sudden heavy shower of hail, falling rather defiantly in
spite of his hints, made him lose his temper. Sir James, looking angrily
up at the sky, declared that unless it stopped within half an hour he
would write to the _Times_ about it.

Whether or not this threat had any real meteorological influence, there
is no doubt that the clouds dispersed rather hastily, the sun hurriedly
appeared, and the weather promptly prepared to enable Sir James to
venture out, which he did with a gracious wave of the hand to the entire
horizon, as though willing to say no more about it.

Sylvia had been as anxious for the thermometer to go up as her father
himself, for it was several days now since she had seen Woodville alone.
And he had been nervously counting the minutes until the moment of
freedom, having, to-day, a stronger reason than ever before to desire a
quiet talk.

Woodville had expressed some remorse--not much, though considerably more
than he felt--for what Sylvia called his conduct during their last
interview, and she meant this morning to forgive him.

"I've only come," said Sylvia, sitting opposite him at the
writing-table, "because I saw you were _really_ sorry for ... the other
day. _Are_ you sorry?"

"Awfully."

"_That's_ not very flattering," said Sylvia.

"I wanted you, too, dreadfully this morning," he said eagerly. "I've got
something wonderful to tell you--to show you."

"Anything dreadful?" she asked, turning pale.

He took out a letter.

"Listen! Since the other day I had made up my mind to go away from here.
I began to see I couldn't bear it. At least, for a time."

"What!" cried Sylvia, rising to her feet.

"Yes. But you needn't worry. I've changed my mind, darling. And before I
tell you any more----"

He leant across the writing-table and kissed her softly, and at some
length.

"Now," he said, "read this letter."

"From the Greek fiend! Is he t