The next morning Mr. Champneys explained to the concerned and regretful Mrs. MacGregor that Mr. Mitchell had been called away suddenly, last night, and didn’t think he would be able to return.  The ladies were to accept Mr. Mitchell’s regrets that he hadn’t been able to bid them good-by in person.  Mr. Champneys bowed for Mr. Mitchell, in a very stately manner.  He went on with his breakfast, while Nancy made a pretense of eating hers, hating life and wishing with youthful intensity that she was dead, and Glenn with her.  His empty place mocked and tortured her.  He had gone, and he didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t understand.  She could never, never hope to make Glenn understand!  She rather expected Mr. Champneys to sit in judgment upon her that morning, but a whole week passed before Hoichi brought the message that Mr. Champneys wished to see her in the library.  Her uncle was standing by the window when she entered, and he turned and bowed to her politely.  He was thinner, gaunter, more Don Quixotish than usual.  If only he had been kind!  But his face was set, and hers instinctively hardened to match it.

“Nancy,” he began directly, “I have not sent for you to load you with reproaches for your inexplicable conduct.  But I must say this:  deliberately to deceive and befool an honest gentleman, to trifle with his affections out of mere greedy vanity, is so base that I have no words strong enough to condemn it.”

“I didn’t mean to fool him.  He fooled himself, and I let him do it,” said she, dully.  He thought her listlessness indifference, and any bluntness in moral tone in a woman, scandalized him.  He could understand a Mrs. MacGregor, who was without subtleties; or soft, loving, courageous women like Milly and his sister-in-law, Peter’s mother.  But this girl he couldn’t fathom.  He beat his hands together, helplessly.

“I—­you—­” he groaned.  And then:  “Oh, Peter, what have I done to you!”

“I can’t see you’ve done anything to him, except pay him to go away and learn how to make something out of himself,” returned Nancy, practically.  It brought him up short.  “Uncle Chadwick, please keep quiet for a few minutes:  I want you to listen to me.”  She met his eyes fully.  “I didn’t do Glenn Mitchell any real harm:  he’ll fall in love with somebody else pretty soon.  I suppose it’s easy for Glenn to love people because it’s easier for people to love Glenn.  And he’s done me this much good:  I won’t be so ready to believe it’s easy for folks to love me, Uncle Chadwick.  I guess I’m the sort they mostly—­don’t.  I’ll not forget.”  She spoke without bitterness, even with dignity.  “One thing more, please.  If ever Peter Champneys finds out he loves somebody, and he’ll let me know, I’ll give him his freedom.  Fortune or no fortune, I won’t hold him.  I know now—­a little—­what loving somebody means,” she finished.