anywhere?"

"Thank you so much," he answered. "My rooms are quite close by here in
Clarges Street."

"Get in, please, and I will take you there," she ordered. "Tell the man
the number. I want just one word with you."

The car started off. Lady Alice looked at her companion and shook her
head.

"Mr. Tallente," she said, "I am very much a woman of the world and Jane
is a very much stronger person than I am, in some things, and a great
baby in others. You and she were such friends and I have an idea that
there was a misunderstanding."

"There was," he groaned. "It was my fault."

"Never mind whose fault it was," she went on. "You two were made for
each other. You have so much in common. Don't drift apart altogether,
just because one has expected too much, or the other been content to
give too little. Jane has a great soul and a great heart. She wants to
give but she doesn't quite know how. And perhaps there isn't any way.
But two people whose lives seem to radiate towards each other, as yours
and hers, shouldn't remain wholly apart. Take a day or two's holiday
soon, even from this great work of yours, and go down to Devonshire. It
would be very dangerous advice," she went on, smiling, "to a different
sort of man, but I have a fancy that to you it may mean something, and I
happen to know--that Jane is miserable."

The car stopped. Tallente held Lady Alice's hand as he had seldom held
the hand of a woman in his life. A curious incapacity for speech
checked the words even upon his lips.

"Thank you," he faltered.

CHAPTER XXII

Upon the moor above Martinhoe and the farm lands adjoining, spring had
fallen that year as gently as the warm rain of April. Tallente,
conscious of an unexpected lassitude, paused as he reached the top of
the zigzag climb from the Manor and rested for a moment upon a block of
stone. Below him, the forests of dwarf oaks which stretched down to the
sea were tipped with delicate green. The meadows were like deep soft
patches of emerald verdure; the fruit trees in his small walled garden
were pink and white with blossoms. The sea was peaceful as an azure
lake into which the hulls of the passing steamers cut like knives,
leaving behind a long line of lazy foam. Little fleecy balls of cloud
were dotted across the sky, puffs of soft wind cooled his cheeks when he
rose to his feet and faced inland.

Soon he left the stony road and walked upon the springy turf bordering
the moorland. Little c