It was a solution of the instant’s difficulties to avoid the turning to Tory Hill and go on to Drusilla Fane’s.  In the wind and rain and gathering darkness the thought of her fireside was cheering.  She would understand him, too.  She had always understood him.  It was her knowledge of the English point of view that made her such an efficient pal.  During all the trying four or five weeks through which he had passed she had been able to give him sympathetic support just where and when he needed it.  It was something to know she would give it to him again.

As he told her of Davenant’s journey to France he could see her eyes grow bigger and blacker than ever in the flickering firelight.  She kept them on him all the while he talked.  She kept them on him as from time to time she lifted her cup and sipped her tea.

“Then that’s why he didn’t answer mother’s letters,” she said, absently, when he had finished.  “He wasn’t there.”

“He wasn’t there, by Jove!  And don’t you see what a fix he’s put me in?”

She replied, still absently:  “I’m not sure that I do.”

“He’s given away the whole show to me.  The question is now whether I can take it, what?”

“He hasn’t given away anything you didn’t have before.”

“He’s given away something he might perhaps have had himself.”

She drew back into the shadow so that he might not see her coloring.  She had only voice enough to say:  “What makes you think so?”

“Don’t you think so?”

“That’s not a fair question.”

“It’s a vital one.”

“To you—­yes.  But—­”

“But not to you.  Oh, I understand that well enough.  But you’ve been such a good pal that I thought you might help me to see—­”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you to see anything.  If I were to try I might mislead you.”

“But you must know, by Jove!  Two women can’t be such pals as Olivia and you—­”

“If I did know I shouldn’t tell you.  It’s something you should find out for yourself.”

“Find out!  I’ve asked her.”

“Well, if she’s told you, isn’t that enough?”

“It would be enough in England.  But here, where words don’t seem to have the same meaning as they do anywhere else—­and surprises are sprung on you—­and people have queer, complicated motives—­and do preposterous, unexpected things—­”

“Peter’s going to see old Cousin Vic might be unexpected; but I don’t think you can call it preposterous.”

“It’s preposterous to have another man racing about the world trying to do you good, by Jove!”

“He wasn’t trying to do you good so much as not to do you harm.  He thought he’d done that, apparently, by interfering with Cousin Henry’s affairs in the first place.  His asking the old Marquise to come to the rescue was only an attempt to make things easier for you.”

He sprang to his feet.  “And he’s got me where I must either call his bluff or—­or—­or accept his beastly sacrifice.”