“He wasn’t, Stephen. But—he—might have been. That’s what I must tell you. If he hadn’t shown—himself to me—as he was—I might have gone away with him. I don’t know. It never got further than a—vulgar flirtation, but I—I let him take me out, and—and all sorts of things. Horrid things. I let him make love to me. I—I wanted him to. Do—do you still want me—now that— you know?”

She thought he was going to take her in his arms, but he only put his hands on her shoulders.

“Could you doubt me, ’Lisbeth? As if that would count!”

She bowed her head.

“I didn’t—know. I—I beg your pardon.”

There was a little silence. When Stephen spoke again it was lightly; she knew that Wendell, all thought of him, had been swept from their lives.

“The Halt is waiting for you, ’Lisbeth. When will you come?”

“As soon as you like, Stephen.”

“My darling, that’s now. Can you manage it?”

“lean, yes. But I haven’t seen Father or Aunt yet. I think I ought to tell them first. It doesn’t matter, of course, but they’d be hurt if I didn’t. And—I’d like to see Mater, too. She’s been—wonderful to me.”

“To-morrow then? After lunch?”

“Yes, I could be ready by then, if I pack now. Only what about Mrs. Cotton, Stephen? Won’t she object?”

“Who the devil’s Mrs. Cotton?” he demanded.

She laughed.

“My landlady. She’s so awful, Stephen! She calls me ‘pore dear.’ At least, she did when I had ’flu.”

“You’ve had ’flu again?” lie said quickly. “Here? Who looked after you?”

“No one. Mrs. Cotton.”

“But, my darling!” Stephen exclaimed in concern. “Where was your aunt?”

“Away. I didn’t want her. I was all right.”

“All right! I ought never to have let you live alone! You’re not fit to take care of yourself, ’Lisbeth.”

“No, I don’t think I am. I never know what to do in hotels, or things like that. That reminds me, won’t Mrs. Cotton want a week’s notice?”

“Not if I pay her the full week. Never mind about that; I’ll attend to it. All you have to do is to pack your things, and see your people. You can leave everything else to me.”

“Oh, I think I’d better—”

“Everything else to me,” Stephen repeated firmly.

A man’s got to feel good and masterful, or he’s only half a man, had said Mrs. Gabriel. Elizabeth smiled a little. “Very well, Stephen! Thank you.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When Stephen came to fetch Elizabeth next day he asked her whether she would rather go to Paris than to Queen’s Halt.