“I don’t see why I should put up with this,” he said, “and I don’t mean to.  It was Nap’s doing.  I was going to drive her.  He interfered—­as usual.”

“I thought you said Nap was skiing.”  Lucas spoke without raising his eyes.  He also looked graver than usual.

“I did.  He is.  But he has got some game on, and he didn’t want me looking on.  Oh, I’m sick to death of Nap and all his ways!  He’s rotten to the core!”

“Gently, boy, gently!  You go too far.”  Lucas looked up into the hot blue eyes, the severity all gone from his own.  “It isn’t what things look like that you have to consider.  It is what they are.  Nap, poor chap, is badly handicapped; but he has been putting up a big fight for himself lately, and he hasn’t done so badly.  Give the devil his due.”

“What’s he doing now?” demanded Bertie.  “It’s bad enough to have the whole community gossiping about his flirtations with women that don’t count.  But when it comes to a good woman—­like Lady Carfax—­oh, I tell you it makes me sick!  He might leave her alone, at least.  She’s miserable enough without him to make matters worse.”

“My dear boy, you needn’t be afraid for Lady Carfax.”  Lucas Errol’s voice held absolute conviction.  “She wouldn’t tolerate him for an instant if he attempted to flirt with her.  Their intimacy is founded on something more solid than that.  It’s a genuine friendship or I have never seen one.”

“Do you mean to say you don’t know he is in love with her?” ejaculated Bertie.

“But he won’t make love to her,” Lucas answered quietly.  “He is drawn by a good woman for the first time in his life, and no harm will come of it.  She is one of those women who must run a straight course.  There are a few such, born saints, ‘of whom the world is not worthy.’” He checked himself with a sudden sigh.  “Suppose we get to business, Bertie.”

“It’s all very fine,” said Bertie, preparing to comply.  “But if Nap ever falls foul of Sir Giles Carfax, he may find that he has bitten off more than he can chew.  They say he is on the high road to the D.T.’s.  Small wonder that Lady Carfax looks careworn!”

Small wonder indeed!  Yet as Anne sped along through the sunshine on that winter day she found leisure from her cares to enjoy the swift journey in the great luxurious car.  The burden she carried perpetually weighed less heavily upon her than usual.  The genial atmosphere of Baronmead had warmed her heart.  The few words that Lucas had spoken with her hand in his still echoed through her memory.  Yes, she knew where to look for friends; no carping critics, but genuine, kindly friends who knew and sympathised.

She thought of Nap with regret and a tinge of anxiety.  She was sure he had not intended to let her go without farewell, but she hoped earnestly that he would not pursue her to the Manor to tell her so.

And then she remembered his letter; that letter that her husband must have intercepted, recalling his storm of unreasonable fury on the occasion of her last return from Baronmead.  He had doubtless read that letter and been inflamed by it.  Hating her himself, he yet was fiercely jealous of her friends—­these new friends of hers who had lavished upon her every kindness in her time of need, to whom she must always feel warmly grateful, however churlishly he might ignore the obligation.