“And why, may I ask?” Sybil inquired, with uplifted eyebrows.

“Oh, I’m an authority on this place—­come here nearly every day to give the director, as he calls himself, some hints.  Come along, Lady Caroom.  I’ll show you the baths and the old part of the outer wall.”

Lady Caroom very soon had enough of it.  She sat down upon a tree and brought out her sketchbook.

“Give me a quarter of an hour, please,” she begged, “not longer.  I want to be home for tea.”

They strolled off, Atherstone turning a little nervously to Sybil.

“I say, we’ve seen the best part of the ruins,” he remarked.  “The renovation’s hideous.  Let’s go in the wood—­and I’ll show you a squirrel’s nest.”

Sybil hesitated.  Her thoughts for a moment were in confusion.  Then she sighed once and turned towards the wood.

“I have never seen a squirrel’s nest,” she said.  “Is it far?”

Lady Caroom put her sketch away as she heard their approaching footsteps, and looked up.  Atherstone’s happiness was too ridiculously apparent.  He came straight over to her.

“You’ll give her to me, won’t you?” he exclaimed. “’Pon my word, she shall be the happiest woman in England if I can make her so.  I’m perfectly certain I’m the happiest man.”

Lady Caroom pressed her daughter’s hand, and they all turned to descend the hill.

“Of course I’m charmed,” Lady Caroom said.  “Sybil makes me feel so elderly.  But I don’t know what I shall do for a chaperon now.”

Atherstone laughed.

“I’m your son-in-law,” he said.  “I can take you out.”

Sybil shook her head.

“No, you won’t,” she declared.  “The only woman I have ever been really jealous of is mother.  She has a way of absorbing all the attention from every one when she is around.  I’m not going to have her begin with you.”

“I feel,” Atherstone said, “like the man who married a twin—­said he never tried to tell the difference, you know, when a pal asked him how he picked out his own wife.”

“If you think,” Sybil said, severely, “that you have made any arrangements of that sort I take it all back.  You are going to marry me, if you behave yourself.”

He sighed.

“Three months is a beastly long time,” he said.

Lady Caroom drove back alone.  The motor whizzed by her half-way down the hill—­Sybil holding her hat with both hands, her hair blowing about, and her cheeks pink with pleasure.  She waved her hand gaily as she went by, and then clutched her hat again.  Lady Caroom watched them till they were out of sight, then she found herself looking steadfastly across the valley to the dark belt of pine-clad hills beyond.  She could see nothing very clearly, and there was a little choking in her throat.  They were both there, father and son.  Once she fancied that at last he was holding out his arms towards her—­she sat up in the carriage with a little cry which was half a sob.  When she drove through the hotel gates it was he who stood upon the steps to welcome her.