He paused twice or thrice on his way, to commune with himself:  the first time by the Passage Slip, where ’Bias and he had halted to view the traffic by the jetties.  He conned it now again, but with unreceptive eyes. . . .  “Rogers talks to me about takin’ advice,” soliloquised Cai.  “It seems to me this is just one of those steps on which a man must make up his own mind. . . .”

He paused again beneath the shadow of the gasometer, possibly through association of ideas, because it suggested thoughts of ’Bias who had so much admired it—­“‘Bias means well, o’ course.  But I don’t go about, for my part, schemin’ how ’Bias is to amuse his latter days.  Besides, ’Bias may be mistaken in more ways than one.”

He had passed the Railway Station without being aware of it, and arrived in sight of Rilla gate, when he halted the third time.  “A man must decide for himself, o’ course, when it comes to the point.  Still, in certain cases there’s others to be considered. . . .  If I knew how far she meant it! . . .  She must ha’ meant something.”  Yes, he felt the clutch on his biceps again and the small hand trembling under his large enfolding one.  “She must ha’ meant something.  Not, to be sure, that it would seriously influence his decisions!  But it seemed hardly fair not to consult her. . . .  He would get her opinion, for what it was worth, not betraying himself.  In advising him she might go—­well, either a little further or a little backward. . . .  Yet, once again, she must have meant something; and it wasn’t fair, if she meant anything at all, to let old ’Bias go on dwelling in a fool’s Paradise.  Yes, certainly—­for ’Bias’s sake—­there ought to be some clear understanding, and the sooner the better. . . .”

By the time Cai pressed the hasp of the gate, he had arrived at viewing himself as a man launched by his own strong will on a necessary errand, and carrying it through against inclination, for the sake of a friend.

“I hope it won’t be a blow to him, whichever way it turns out,” was the thought in Cai’s mind as he knocked on the front door.

Dinah answered his knock:  and, as she opened, Dinah could not repress a small start, which she hid, almost on the instant, under a demure smile of welcome.

“Captain Hocken? . . .  Oh, yes! the mistress was within at this moment and entertaining a visitor. . . .  Oh, indeed, no! there was no reason at all”—­she turned, quick about, and he found himself following her and found himself, before he could protest, at the parlour door, which she flung open, announcing—­

“Captain Hocken to see you, ma’am!”