“Oh no, indeed!” Chris said.  She spoke quite quietly, with absolute conviction.  “You don’t know him, Hilda.  You only judge him from outside.  If he knew—­well, yes, he might possibly think it his duty to be near me.  But not because he cared.  You see—­he doesn’t.  His love is quite dead.  And”—­she began to shiver—­“I don’t like dead things; they frighten me.  So you won’t let anyone tell him; promise me!”

“But, my dear, he would love the child—­his child,” urged Hilda softly.

“Oh, that would be worse!” Chris turned sharply from her.  “If he loved the child—­and—­and—­hated the mother!”

“Chris!  Chris!  You are torturing yourself with morbid ideas!  Such a thing would be impossible.”

“Not with him,” said Chris, shuddering.  “He is not like Percy, you know.  You think him gentle and kind, but he is quite different, really.  He is as hard—­and as cold—­as iron.  Ah, here is Noel!” She broke off with obvious relief.  “Come in, dear old boy.  I’ve been wondering where you were.”

Noel came in.  He usually haunted Chris’s room during the day.  The Davenants had done their utmost to persuade him to go to school, but Noel had taken the conduct of his affairs into his own hands, and firmly refused.

“I shan’t go while Chris is ill,” he declared flatly.  “We’ll see what she’s like at the mid-term.”

Jack’s authority was invoked in vain, for Jack was on the youngster’s side.

“I’ve squared him,” said Noel, with satisfaction.  “Of course, I’m sorry to be a burden to you, Hilda, but I’ll pay up when I come of age.”

Which promise invariably silenced Hilda’s protests, and made Lord Percy chuckle.

Aunt Philippa was still absent upon her autumn round of visits, a circumstance for which Noel was openly and devoutly thankful.  Not that her influence was by any means paramount with him, but her presence might of itself have been sufficient to drive him away.  The only person who could really manage him was his brother-in-law, but as he had apparently forgotten Noel’s very existence, it seemed unlikely that his authority would be brought to bear upon him.  Meanwhile, Noel swaggered in and out of his sister’s presence, penniless but content, and Chris plainly liked to have him.

On the present occasion he interrupted their conversation without apology, pushed Chris’s feet to one side, and seated himself on the end of the sofa.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” he said to Hilda.

“Yes, I do,” said Hilda.

“All right, then.  You’d better go.”  He pulled a clay pipe out of his pocket, and an envelope that contained tobacco.  “I know Chris doesn’t mind,” he said, with a twinkling glance in her direction.  “Also, my cousin, someone wants you in the next room.”

“Who is it?” said Hilda.

“Don’t ask me,” said Noel.

She hesitated momentarily.  “Well, I suppose I must go.  But mind, Noel, you are not to smoke in here.”