“None.  I don’t know.  I should like to ask Dr. Irechester.”  Then, with a sudden smile, she amended, “No, I shouldn’t!”

“And why not, pray?  Professional etiquette?”

“No, pride.  Dr. Irechester laughed at me.  I think I see why now; and perhaps why Mr. Beaumaroy—­” She broke off abruptly, the slightest gesture of her hand warning Naylor also to be silent.

Having said good-bye to his friends by the window, Beaumaroy was sauntering across the room to pay the like courtesy to herself and Naylor.  Mary rose to her feet; there was an air of decision about her, and she addressed Beaumaroy almost before he was within speaking distance as it is generally reckoned in society.

“If you’re going home, Mr. Beaumaroy, shall we walk together?  It’s time I was off, too.”

Beaumaroy looked a little surprised, but undoubtedly pleased.  “Well, now, what a delightful way of prolonging a delightful visit.  I’m truly grateful, Dr. Arkroyd.”

“Oh, you needn’t be!” said Mary with a little toss of her head.

Naylor watched them with amusement.  “He’ll catch it on that walk!” he was thinking.  “She’s going to let him have it!  I wish I could be there to hear.”  He spoke to them openly:  “I’m sorry you must both go, but, since you must, go together.  Your walk will be much pleasanter.”

Mary understood him well enough, and gave him a flash from her eyes.  But Beaumaroy’s face betrayed nothing, as he murmured politely:  “To me, at all events, Mr. Naylor.”

Naylor was not wrong as to Mary’s mood and purpose.  But she did not find it easy to begin.  Pretty quick at a retort herself, she could often foresee the retorts open to her interlocutor.  Beaumaroy had provided himself with plenty:  the old man’s whim; the access to the old man so willingly allowed, not only to her but to Captain Alec; his own candor carried to the verge of self-betrayal.  Oh, he would be full of retorts, supple and dexterous ones!  As this hostile accusation passed through her mind, she awoke to the fact that she was, at the same moment, regarding his profile (he, too, was silent, no doubt lying in wait to trip up her opening!) with interest, even with some approval.  He seemed to feel her glance, for he turned towards her quickly—­so quickly that she had no time to turn her eyes away.

“Doctor Mary”—­the familiar mode of address habitually used at the house which they had just left seemed to slip out without his consciousness of it—­“You’ve got something against me; I know you have!  I’m sensitive that way, though not, perhaps, in another.  Now, out with it!”

“You’d silence me with a clever answer.  I think that you sometimes make the mistake of supposing that to be silenced is the same thing as being convinced.  You silenced Captain Naylor—­oh, I don’t mean you’ve prevented him from talking!—­I mean you confuted him, you put him in the wrong, but you certainly didn’t convince him.”