“Never less than an hour, if I can snatch it.”

“It is a wonderful resource!”

The remark set him throbbing and thinking that a prolongation of his crisis exposed him to the approaches of some organic malady, possibly heart-disease.

“A habit,” he said.  “In there I throw off the world.”

“We shall see some results in due time.”

“I promise none:  I like to be abreast of the real knowledge of my day, that is all.”

“And a pearl among country gentlemen!”

“In your gracious consideration, my dear lady.  Generally speaking, it would be more advisable to become a chatterer and keep an anecdotal note-book.  I could not do it, simply because I could not live with my own emptiness for the sake of making an occasional display of fireworks.  I aim at solidity.  It is a narrow aim, no doubt; not much appreciated.”

“Laetitia Dale appreciates it.”

A smile of enforced ruefulness, like a leaf curling in heat, wrinkled his mouth.

Why did she not speak of her conversation with Clara?

“Have they caught Crossjay?” he said.

“Apparently they are giving chase to him.”

The likelihood was, that Clara had been overcome by timidity.

“Must you leave us?”

“I think it prudent to take Professor Crooklyn away.”

“He still . . . ?”

“The extraordinary resemblance!”

“A word aside to Dr. Middleton will dispel that.”

“You are thoroughly good.”

This hateful encomium of commiseration transfixed him.  Then she knew of his calamity!

“Philosophical,” he said, “would be the proper term, I think.”

“Colonel De Craye, by the way, promises me a visit when he leaves you.”

“To-morrow?”

“The earlier the better.  He is too captivating; he is delightful.  He won me in five minutes.  I don’t accuse him.  Nature gifted him to cast the spell.  We are weak women, Sir Willoughby.”

She knew!

“Like to like:  the witty to the witty, ma’am.”

“You won’t compliment me with a little bit of jealousy?”

“I forbear from complimenting him.”

“Be philosophical, of course, if you have the philosophy.”

“I pretend to it.  Probably I suppose myself to succeed because I have no great requirement of it; I cannot say.  We are riddles to ourselves.”

Mrs. Mountstuart pricked the turf with the point of her parasol.  She looked down and she looked up.

“Well?” said he to her eyes.

“Well, and where is Laetitia Dale?”

He turned about to show his face elsewhere.

When he fronted her again, she looked very fixedly, and set her head shaking.

“It will not do, my dear Sir Willoughby!”

“What?”

“I never could solve enigmas.”

“Playing ta-ta-ta-ta ad infinitum, then.  Things have gone far.  All parties would be happier for an excursion.  Send her home.”