“He’s been left at home,” Bertram said. “The master thought he needed a rest. I need one myself, but there’s no rest in sight for the butler,” he added.

“Oh, go sit in your closet, Bertram,” Cecily said. “You are such a gloomy sort.”

14.

“I don’t understand why you women like outlaws so,” I remarked during tea.

“Why aren’t you eating your muffin?” Cecily asked. Her humor had improved considerably since discovering that Isinglass had left.

“It’s not much of a muffin,” I said, although I suppose there was nothing wrong with it.

“Well, you’re not much of a writer,” Cecily said merrily. “Judge not that ye be not judged.”

“You ignored my question,” I told her. “Why do women like outlaws so much?”

“Can’t speak for my sex,” Cecily said, her mouth full. She took my uneaten muffin and buttered it.

“Then why do you like them?” I persisted.

“Not boring, that’s why,” she said, pausing from her steady intake for a moment.

“Not boring like you,” she amended.

“I didn’t bore you at first, did I?” I asked.

“Only from the moment I laid eyes on you,” Cecily said, pouring herself more tea. “You are the most boring man I’ve ever met, Ben, except for my cousin Elphinstone. I will admit that my cousin Elphinstone runs you a close second.”

At that point I abandoned the notion of talk and just sat there and watched her eat.

15.

That night, shortly after dinner, Cecily went for a moonlight ride, carrying with her the fine sporting rifle which she had used to such deadly effect on the antelope of Kenya.

I sat in the study until quite late, trying to read a Wilkie Collins novel—Poor Miss Finch, it was called. My efforts with it were completely unsuccessful; it may be a very fine novel indeed, but if so I can’t say, for I could not manage to forget Cecily Snow long enough to raise an interest in Miss Finch, poor or otherwise.

When midnight came and Cecily hadn’t returned, I went up to bed, feeling almost as old as Bertram. Where was Cecily? And what were they doing? Though I knew perfectly well that it would be a little short of insane to allow myself to care one way or the other what the woman did—she made Dora seem almost human—unfortunately I did care. I tried to refuse to allow myself to, but it didn’t work: my affections had slipped their brake.