“I wish you’d tell me what’s the matter.  It isn’t only a headache.”

“It’s Hell and the Devil and all his angels,” said Emmy, “and I’d like to murder somebody.”

“You can murder me, if it would do you any good,” said Septimus.

“I believe you’d let me,” she said, yielding.  “You’re a good sort.”  She turned, with a short laugh, her novel held in both hands behind her back, one finger holding the place.  A letter dropped from it.  Septimus picked it up and handed it to her.  It bore an Italian stamp and the Naples postmark.

“Yes.  That’s from him,” she said resentfully.  “I’ve not had a letter for a week, and now he writes to say he has gone to Naples on account of his health.  You had better let me go, my good Septimus; if I stay here much longer I’ll be talking slush and batter.  I’ve got things on my nerves.”

“Why don’t you talk to Zora?” he suggested.  “She is so wonderful.”

“She’s the last person in the world that must know anything.  Do you understand?  The very last.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he replied ruefully.

“She doesn’t know anything about Mordaunt Prince.  She must never know.  Neither must mother.  They don’t often talk much about the family; but they’re awfully proud of it.  Mother’s people date from before Noah, and they look down on the Oldrieves because they sprang up like mushrooms just after the Flood.  Prince’s real name is Huzzle, and his father kept a boot shop.  I don’t care a hang, because he’s a gentleman, but they would.”

“But yet you’re going to marry him.  They must know sooner or later.  They ought to know.”

“Time enough when I’m married.  Then nothing can be done and nothing can be said.”

“Have you ever thought whether it wouldn’t be well to give him up?” said Septimus, in his hesitating way.

“I can’t, I can’t!” she cried.  Then she burst into tears, and, afraid lest Zora should surprise her, left the room without another word.

On such occasions the most experienced man is helpless.  He shrugs his shoulders, says “Whew!” and lights a cigarette.  Septimus, with an infant’s knowledge of the ways of young women, felt terribly distressed by the tragedy of her tears.  Something must be done to stop them.  He might start at once for Naples, and, by the help of strong gendarmes whom he might suborn, bring back Mordaunt Prince presently to London.  Then he remembered his overdrawn banking account, and sighfully gave up the idea.  If only he were not bound to secrecy and could confide in Zora.  This a sensitive honor forbade.  What could he do?  As the fire was getting low he mechanically put on a lump of coal with the pincers.  When Zora returned with the atlas she found him rubbing them through his hair, and staring at vacancy.

“If I do go round the world,” said Zora, a little while later, when they had settled on which side of South America Valparaiso was situated—­and how many nice and clever people could tell you positively, offhand?—­“if I go round the world, you and Emmy will have to come too.  It would do her good.  She has not been looking well lately.”