lis wondered
why Dick Bellamy was so taciturn--silent and sombre almost to
moroseness. But Randal had no doubt that he knew.

Dick, the least sullen and most even-tempered of men, was for once at
war with himself. The midnight phantom had become a daylight obsession.

Although he thought he knew what women were, he had never reached a
definition of "being in love." For, having more than once believed
himself in that condition, he had as often found himself too suddenly
free.

Before this English girl had seized upon his thoughts so that nothing
else interested him, he had said there was always the car in which to
run away.

He was not afraid of offending his brother, for Randal knew him as he
knew Randal. But a man does not throw himself into the sea just because
there is a lifebuoy handy. Secure, therefore, in his power to escape, it
was not until this afternoon that he found decision forced upon him. If
he went, there was good chance of freedom; if he stayed, no chance at
all.

He was lying on his back, looking up through the branches of a huge
tree, when he reached what he considered this clear alternative. He was
a man who seldom lied to himself; so now it was with a sudden sharpness
that he felt the sting of self-deception.

"I've been trying to kid myself that I'm like the damn fool who runs
away from the girl he's getting fond of because he's afraid of marriage.
But I'm not. I'm the coward who's up to his knees, and funks letting
himself all in for fear of not being able to reach what he's at least
able to swim for."

At dinner, Amaryllis, in sheer kindness of heart, shone with good
humour, readiness of reply and flow of conversation. Randal, while he
felt that she now and then forced the note, caught her motive, and
responding, smoothed her way. But Dick, having from childhood accepted
Randal's immunity from love as an axiom, took it all in good faith, and
emerging by quick degrees from his taciturnity, soon had his share of
the talk and laughter.

He too had noticed at first a certain strain and effort in the girl's
manner; but put it down to the absence of her father from the table. And
so, when the trunk-call came to tell them he was dining with the
Secretary of State and would be home late, and Amaryllis seemed to
"settle into her stride," Dick thought of the matter no further, but
only of her.

After coffee in the hall, Randal excused himself on the plea of
letter-writing, and Amaryllis, alone