She continued her reflections.

Fussing over clearing the supper still! One of Elsbeth's absurd ideas, just because it was the maid's evening out.... Let her do it when she came back! Such a fuss and excitement always! What would Roger think of them? What a long time they were! She might take the opportunity of going to change her frock.... She hesitated. What was that? What was Roger saying? She caught the murmur of his deep voice and her aunt's staccato in answer, but the words were blurred.

After all--why should she bother to change? Elsbeth would be sure to make unnecessary remarks.... And Roger wouldn't care--he was too occupied with Elsbeth.... n.o.body cared--n.o.body wanted her.... She would go back to Clare to-morrow.... But if Clare were in to-day's humour still?

What a wretched week it had been.... Even if Clare had not been so moody, Alwynne would have felt ill at ease ... she had known perfectly well that she owed the first weeks of her return to her aunt ... but at a hint from Clare she had stifled her conscience and stayed.... And now Elsbeth, she could tell, was deeply hurt.... Once away from Clare, Alwynne could reflect and be sorry.... She wouldn't have believed that she could be so careless of Elsbeth's feelings.... She was suddenly and generously furious with herself. How selfish, how abominably selfish she had been.... No wonder Roger had been shocked! Of course neither he nor Elsbeth could ever understand how difficult it was to withstand Clare.... It had been possible once.... Her thought strayed to that early Christmas when she had resisted all Clare's arguments.... But now she had no choice.... However determined one might be beforehand--and she had intended to return that first day--one's will was beaten aside, blown about like a straw in a strong wind.... If only Roger would understand that.... She hated him to think her so selfish.... Elsbeth needn't have told him, she thought resentfully ... it was not like Elsbeth to give her away.... She supposed she had hurt Elsbeth's feelings pretty badly.... Why, oh why, hadn't she been firmer with Clare? She had only to say, quite quietly, that she must do what she felt to be right.... Clare couldn't have eaten her....

She began to rehea.r.s.e the conversation; it soothed her to compose the telling phrases she might have uttered. They sounded all right ... but, of course, face to face with Clare she could never have said them....

Clare, in indifference, displeasure or appeal, would have conquered without battle given ... in her heart she knew that.

She moved uneasily about the room, deep in thought. For the first time her att.i.tude to Clare struck her as contemptible.... What had Roger said? "Like a dog after a thrashing." Intolerable! She flung up her head, her pride writhing under the phrase. So that was how it struck outsiders! Outsiders? She didn't care a dead leaf for outsiders.... Let them think what they chose! But Roger? And Elsbeth? Did they really think her weak and enslaved? It stung her that Roger should think so meanly of her. She told herself that the loss of his opinion in no way affected her--and instantly began to revolve within herself phrases, explanations, actions, wherewith to regain it. And there was Elsbeth....

He had thought her unkind to Elsbeth.... He was right there! She saw, remorsefully, with her usual thoroughness, that she had been, for many a long year, as the plagues of Egypt to her Elsbeth.

She flung herself on the prim little sofa, and stared at the closed door uncertainly. She was too proud to do what she wanted to do--invade the kitchen, and regardless of Roger's eyes and presence, confess to Elsbeth, and receive absolution. A word, she knew, would be enough....

If Elsbeth felt as miserable as she did--a word would be more than enough....

Elsbeth and Roger, returning to the sitting-room, ended her indecision.

Their manner had changed--Roger was quieter--less talkative--but Elsbeth was so radiant that Alwynne decided that contrition could wait. More than ever she realised that two were company....

Her anger grew again as she watched and listened.

Elsbeth had produced cards, and suggested three-handed bridge. Alwynne excused herself, and Roger, who had been her partner on occasion at Dene, was obviously relieved. His Alwynne was the One Woman--but she could not play bridge!

He settled down to double-dummy with Elsbeth. The conversation became a rapt and technical duet, punctuated with interminable pauses.

Alwynne fumed.

So this was Elsbeth's idea of a really pleasant evening! Cards! Beastly, idiotic cards! Roger, her Roger, had come up all the way from Dene to play cards with Elsbeth! Had he just? All right then! He should have all the cards he wanted--and more! As for Elsbeth--catch Alwynne telling her she was sorry now!

The striking of the clock gave her her opportunity. She rose, yawning elaborately.

"I'm going to bed," she remarked to the card-table.

"Are you, dear?" said Elsbeth.

"Oh! Oh, good-night," said Roger casually rising, and sitting down again. "Your shout, Elsbeth."

Elsbeth went "no trumps."

Alwynne lingered.

"Of course the kitchen fire's out?" she said, with sour suggestiveness.

"Do you want a bath? Yes, of course. Do you know, my dear, you're looking rather grubby?" Elsbeth paid her sweetly. "I expect the water will still be hot, if you're quick. Don't forget to turn the light off, will you, when you've finished?"

Alwynne made no answer, but she still lingered. Elsbeth, finishing her hand, spoke over her shoulder--

"Alwynne, dear, either go out, or come in and sit down. There's such a draught."

There was a swish of skirts, and all the innumerable ornaments rattled on their shelves. Alwynne had permitted herself the luxury of banging the door.

Roger laughed like a schoolboy.

"'All is not well!'" he quoted.

Elsbeth laughed too, yet half against her will.

"My poor Alwynne! She hates me to be annoyed with her. It infuriates her. She'll be awfully penitent to-morrow. It's really rather comical, you know. She'll take criticism from any one else--but I must approve implicitly! And you being here didn't improve matters. She was longing to be nice, and I didn't help her. She was quite aware that she was showing you her worst side, and quite unable to get out of the mood. I knew, bless her heart!"

She looked at him with a quick little gesture of appeal.

"Roger--you do understand? That--tantrum--meant nothing. She's such an impulsive child."

He smiled.

"I know. Don't you worry. Besides, it was my fault. I was teasing her all the evening. It was not what she expected. Oh, I'm growing subtle enough to please even you, Elsbeth. You know, she's had rather a full day. Evidently a scorching afternoon with that delightful friend of hers, to start with----"

"Ah?" said Elsbeth, her eyes brightening.

"Oh, yes; she was distinctly chastened. I improved the occasion, and you've about finished her off, the poor old girl! I was expecting that little exhibition."

"I believe--I believe you enjoy upsetting her," began Elsbeth, rather indignantly.

"Of course I do. It's as good as a play!"

Elsbeth sighed.

"Well--I suppose it's all right. You'll have to manage her for the future, not I."

"Oh, she'll do all the managing," said Roger ruefully. "I foresee that this is my last stand. She's just a trifle in awe of me, at present, you know, though she doesn't know it. But it won't last. And then--heaven help me! But, you know, Cousin Elsbeth--to be henpecked by Alwynne--don't you think it will be quite pleasant?"

"It is. She's bullied me since she was three. Oh, Roger, I shall miss her." She blinked rapidly.

Roger stared away from her in awkward sympathy.

"You shan't, not very much," he said. "We'll fix things. You'll have to come and settle with us."

Elsbeth fidgeted.

"You know, you took my breath away in the kitchen just now," she said.

"Are you quite sure it's all right? Does Alwynne _know_ she's engaged to you?"

He perpended.

"Well, frankly--I don't think she did quite take it in."

"Roger!"