“Except that he—­what?”

“Except that he—­got the better of me.  He has the better of me still.  And I can’t allow that, by Jove!  Do you see?”

“I don’t see very clearly.  In what way did he get the better of you?”

“In the whole thing—­the way he carried it off—­the whole silly business.”

“Then I don’t see what’s to be done about it now.”

“Something’s got to be done, by Jove!  I can’t let it go at that.”

“Well, what do you propose?”

“I don’t propose anything.  But I can’t go through life letting that fellow stay on top.  Why, considering everything—­all he’s done for Olivia and her father—­and now this other thing—­and his beastly magnanimity besides—­he’s frightfully on top.  It won’t do, you know.  But I say, you’ll not tell Olivia, will you?  She’d hate it—­about the row, I mean.  I don’t mind your knowing.  You’re always such a good pal to me—­”

It was impossible to go on, because Mrs. Temple bustled in from the task of helping Olivia with the packing and sacking at Tory Hill.  Having greeted Ashley with the unceremoniousness permissible with one who was becoming an intimate figure at the fireside, she settled to her tea.

“Oh, so sad!” she reflected, her little pursed-up mouth twitching nervously.  “The dear old house all dismantled!  Everything to go!  I’ve asked Henry to come and stay here.  It’s too uncomfortable for him, with all the moving and packing going on around him.  It’ll be easier for dear Olivia, too.  So hard for her to take care of him, with all the other things she has on her hands.  There’s Peter’s room.  Henry may as well have it.  I don’t suppose we shall see anything more of Peter for ages to come.  But I do wish he’d write.  Don’t you, Colonel Ashley?  I’ve written to him three times now—­and not a line from him!  I suppose they must be able to get letters out there, at Stoughton, Michigan.  It can’t be so far beyond civilization as all that.  And Olivia would like it.  She’s worried about him—­about his not writing—­and everything.  Don’t you think, Colonel Ashley?”

Ashley looked blank.  “I haven’t noticed it—­”

“Oh, I have.  A woman’s eye sees those little things, don’t you think?  Men have so much on their hands—­the great things of the world—­but the little things, they often count, don’t you think?  But I tell dear Olivia not to worry.  Everything will come right.  Things do come right—­very often.  I’m more pessimistic than Rodney—­that I must say.  But still I think things have a way of coming right when we least expect it.  I tell dear Olivia that Peter will send a line just when we’re not looking for it.  It’s the watched pot that never boils, you know, and so I tell her to stop watching for the postman.  That’s fatal to getting a letter—­watching for the postman.  How snug you two look here together!  Well, I’ll run up and take off my things.  No; no more tea, dear.  I won’t say good-by, Colonel Ashley, because you’ll be here when I come down.”