"I do," fervently.

"Then why in the world don't you look after her a bit? I turned up unexpectedly at half-past one to-day, and found her sobbing her eyes out."

"You found Lorraine sobbing her eyes out..." incredulously.

"I did. She told me not to tell you, as it was only nerves - but of course it wasn't. You know as well as I that Lorraine doesn't suffer from weepy nerves. It's worry again; and she is looking thoroughly ill."

"Why again?..."

He was looking grave enough now, and there was anxiety in his voice.

"Oh, because there's often something to worry her - either her mother, or her memories, or the future. I suppose you haven't bothered to go and see her lately to cheer her up? Been too busy with your briefs!"

"I was there yesterday, to inquire how she was after a bad sick headache. The room was all violets and snow-drops"; and his eyes grew soft.

"And did she sight of her robust health knock you backwards?"

Hal was irritable from the strain on her own nerves, and it pleased her to hurl sarcasms at him, feeling somehow angry at his calm, smoothly-flowing path to success.

"I thought she looked ill, and I advised her to go away for a week."

"That was kind of you. And why won't she take your safe advice?"

"She won't go alone, and she said there was no one to go with her."

"Too many briefs, eh?"

"What have my briefs to do with it?"

"Oh, nothing. She's given hours and hours to you and your future; but of course you couldn't risk sparing a week -"

"But!... " he began with raised eyebrows.

""Oh, don't 'but' in that inane fashion. If you say it isn't proper I shall scream. Lorraine is nearly old enough to be your mother, and she has far too much sense to be in love with you; and you wouldn't be so idiote as to imagine it any use for you to be in love with her.

Therefore it's only a companion she wants to keep her from moping and dwelling on sad thoughts; and you seem to be able to do that - as well as any of us; so why can't you get another man, or boy if you prefer it, to go for a run into the country with you? Flip would take her by the next train if he were there. He wouldn't care a farthing for scandalmongers. But I suppose he can do that sort of thing because he's a man. And, anyhow, I don't suppose she would go with you, even with a third person. She might think a whole week of you too much of a good thing."

His face has grown still more thoughtful, and he paid small heed to her taunts.

Lorraine sobbing, Lorraine ailing, Lorraine unhappy, filled his mind.

What could have happened to upset her so? True, she had not been looking well for some weeks, and had complained of headaches and weariness; but he felt sure something quie apart had transpired to upset her so thoroughly.

Neither did he think it was Hal's version of the usual worries. He greatly feared his own people had made some move of which he was in ignorance. He contemplated with deep vexation the probability that he himself was indirectly the cause of her new trouble, and he mentally decided then and there to go to considerable lengths, if she wished it, on her behalf.

Probably if he travelled down to some sea-side place and saw her comfortably settled, and later on ran down to fetch her, she would be more easily induced to go. At any rate he would call the very next day and see, if his proposition simplified matters at all.

Hal watched him a little impatiently, and at length remarked:

"You seem to be thinking rather hard. Are you meditating upon Lorraine's trouble, or my suggestion, that it is unlikely she could endure a whole week of you, unadulterated?"

"Both," with a humorous glance at her. "I'm thinking it would be interesting to find out the truth in both cases."

"Well, you won't do that. Lorraine never tells her troubles. Not even to me. And she's too tender-hearted to hurt your feelings on the other question."

"I'm not afraid of that."

His face grew a little brighter, and, as if satisfied with the result of his cogitations, he changed the subject.

"What's making you so ratty to-night? Is it the faithless swain?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Perhaps you haven't seen the evening paper."

"I haven't. I'm sick to death of papers by six o'clock."

"Well, you oughtn't to have missed it to-night, and then you'd have had the pleasure of seeing the announcement of the faithless swain's engagement to the rich heiress."

Hal bit her lip suddenly, and felt her blood run cold, but she kept her outward composure perfectly, and merely commented:

"Oh, you mean about Sir Edwin Crathie and Miss Bootes!... that's very old news."

"Well, it was only in the paper to-night anyhow; and only given as a rumour then. I was going to ask you if it is true. Yhey say he's in the d.i.c.kens of a mess for money. But of course you know all about it."

He was enjoying himself now, feeling that he was getting a little of his own back, and it made him unconsciously merciless.

"It must have been rather a trying moment when you had to break to him that you couldn't possibly pay any of his debts, and that therefore you must part?"

"I don't know anything about his debts. They don't interest me. I can beat him at golf, playing level, and that's far more to the point."

"Then you are going to play golf with him, while Miss Bootes bears his proud name in return for paying his debts! Sure, it sounds a nice handy arrangement for him."

Then Hal got up.

"I don't want to _talk_ to you, because you are talking such drivel; and I don't want to _look_ at you, because your pink and white and blue and gold irritate me beyond words, so you'd better go and stand in the middle of the room for the benefit of those who delight to gaze; and I'll go in search of a refreshingly ugly person who can talk sense!"

Hermon gave a low chuckle of enjoyment, and continued to chuckle to himself until she was lost to sight and his hostess was introducing some charming debutante to him. The debutante was pink and white and blue and gold likewise, and gazed up at him adorably under long curling lashes; but he might have expressed a fellow-feeling with Hal, for he found himself merely bored, and longed to go in search, not of a refreshingly ugly person, but of the refreshingly irritable, snappy, unappreciative one who had just left him.

When at last he was free, however, he found Hal had complained of a headache and gone home early, unattended.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

On her way home Hal stopped the taxi and bought an evening paper. When she got it, however, she found Dudley there, so she merely held it under her cloak.

"You are back early," he said, in a surprised voice.