be good for him."

"You are holding my hands," said Joan.

"I know," said Mr. Vyner. "I like it."

He released them reluctantly and stood looking at her. Miss Hartley
after a brave attempt to meet his gaze, lowered her eyes. For a time
neither of them spoke.

"I'm as bad as Trimblett," said Robert at last. "I am beginning to
believe in fate. It is my firm opinion that we were intended for each
other. I can't imagine marrying anybody else, can you?"

Miss Hartley, still looking down, made no reply.

CHAPTER XXV

ROBERT VYNER walked home slowly, trying as he went to evolve a scheme
which should in the first place enable him to have his own way, and,
in the second to cause as little trouble as possible to everybody. As a
result of his deliberations he sought his father, whom he found enjoying
a solitary cup of tea, and told him that he had been to Hartley's with
the news of Captain Trimblett's illness. He added casually that Mrs.
Trimblett was looking remarkably well. And he spoke feelingly of the
pleasure afforded to all right-minded people at being able to carry a
little sympathy and consolation into the homes of the afflicted.

Mr. Vyner senior sipped his tea. "She has got her father and the
children if she wants sympathy," he said gruffly.

Robert shook his head. "It's not quite the same thing," he said gravely.

"The children ought to be with her," said his father. "I never
understood why they should have gone to Mrs. Chinnery; still that's not
my affair."

"It was to assist Mrs. Chinnery for one thing," said Robert. "And besides
they were awfully in the way."

He heard his father put his tea-cup down and felt, rather than saw, that
he was gazing at him with some intentness. With a pre-occupied air he
rose and left the room.

Satisfied with the impression he had made, he paid another visit to
Hartley's on the day following and then, despite Joan's protests, became
an almost daily visitor. His assurance that they were duty visits paid
only with a view to their future happiness only served to mystify her.
The fact that Hartley twice plucked up courage to throw out hints as to
the frequency of his visits, and the odd glances with which his father
favoured him, satisfied him that he was in the right path.

For a fortnight he went his way unchecked, and, apparently blind to the
growing stiffness, of his father every time the subject was mentioned,
spoke freely of Mrs. Trimblett and the beautiful res