She passed over his last question, for the wonder pierced her if she had not had too much.  “Yes, really.  I am going to change my boots.  I left them somewhere here.  I wonder where they are.  Ah, there they are against the railing!  No, please don’t!  I can manage quite well.  I would rather.”

She sat down on the bank, and bent her hot face over her task.

The two brothers remained near her.  Scott was apparently waiting for her.  They exchanged a few low words.

“I’ll do my level best, old chap,” she heard Scott say.  “But if I don’t succeed, it can’t be helped.  Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

Eustace made an impatient sound, and muttered something in a whisper.

“No,” Scott said in answer.  “Not that!  Never with my consent.  It wouldn’t do, man!  I tell you it wouldn’t do.  Can’t you take my word for it?”

“You’re as obstinate as a mule, Stumpy,” his brother said, in tones of irritation.  “It’ll come to it sooner or later.  You’re only prolonging the agony.”

“I am doing my best,” Scott said gravely.  “Give me credit for that at least!”

Sir Eustace clapped a sudden hand on his shoulder.  “No one doubts that, my boy.  You’re true gold.  But it’s sheer foolishness to go on in the same old way that’s proved a failure a hundred times.  In heaven’s name, now that we’ve hauled her out of that infernal groove, don’t let idiotic sentimentality spoil everything!  Don’t shy at the consequences!  I’ll be responsible for them.”

Dinah glanced up.  She saw that for the moment she was forgotten.  The light was shining upon Scott’s face, and she read in it undeniable perplexity, but the eyes were steadfast and wholly calm.

He even smiled a little as he said, “My dear chap, have you ever considered the consequences of anything—­counted the cost before you came to pay?  No, never!”

“Don’t preach to me!” Eustace said sharply.

“No.  I won’t.  But don’t you talk in that airy way about responsibility to me!  Because—­” Scott’s smile broadened and became openly affectionate—­“it just won’t go down, dear fellow!  I can’t swallow camels—­never could.”

“You can strain at gnats though,” commented Sir Eustace, pivoting round on his skates.  “Well, you know my sentiments.  I haven’t put my foot down yet.  But I’m going to—­pretty soon.  It’s got to be done.  And if you can’t bring yourself to it,—­well, I shall, that’s all.”

He was gone with the words, swift as an arrow, leaving behind him a space so empty that Dinah felt a sudden queer little pang of desolation.

Scott remained motionless, deep in thought, for the passage of several seconds.  Then abruptly the consciousness of her presence came upon him, and he turned to her.  She was sitting on the bank looking up at him with frank interest.  Their eyes met.

And then a very curious thing happened to Dinah.  She flinched under his look, flinched and averted her own.  A great shyness suddenly surged through her, a quivering, overmastering sense of embarrassment.  For in that moment she viewed the flight to Olympus as he would have viewed it, and was horribly, overwhelmingly ashamed.  She could not break the silence.  She had no words to utter—­no possible means at hand by which to cover her discomfiture.