Marianne had assumed he was joking about the medicine, but he came to her room almost immediately and repeated his request. She had not, in fact, taken any, and had almost forgotten where she had put it; but Carlton soon discovered the bottle on her dressing table and made off with it. She was sorry, after he had gone, that she had not taken a dose herself, for she was some time in falling asleep.

She woke early the next morning and dragged herself out of bed, tired though she was; for it was imperative that the Duchess should not suspect that anything had happened.

And yet, Marianne thought sadly as the day wore on, the Duchess's failure to notice Carlton's bruises and the Duke's febrile excitement was a portent of her absorption in the event that was fast drawing nigh. She accepted the news of Victor's disappearance with abnormal indifference. "I suppose he has made off with some odds and ends," was her only comment. "It is a small price to pay to be rid of him."

Carlton suggested a ride that afternoon. Marianne agreed; she was glad of the exercise and hoped for a confidential talk. In this she was disappointed. The relaxed, laughing young man who had slapped Henry on the back and called Marianne by her first name had been replaced by the old Carlton, surly and sarcastic and withdrawn.

The Duchess, too, seemed to be withdrawing a little further every day. She had acquired a habit of sitting with her head tilted, as if listening to voices the others could not hear, and she did not seem to care whether anyone was with her or not. After trying to rouse her by suggestions and amusements and receiving only vague replies such as "Whatever you like, my dear," Marianne gave up and went in search of Henry.

They spent the rest of the afternoon out of doors playing lawn tennis. This was a new sport to Marianne, who had read of it but had never played, and the Duke was delighted to play the role of teacher. They returned to the house arm in arm, and Henry, still heavy-eyed from lack of sleep the preceding night, was easily persuaded to go up to his supper and the attentions of his Nanny. The good creature was, he reported, quite delighted at the absence of M. Victor, whom she had always considered a slippery sort of foreign body, not at all the kind to look after her wee laddie.

Henry's imitation of the old lady made Marianne laugh heartily. He had a wicked gift for mimicry; she had noticed it the night before, when he parroted Victor's brogue. But when she went to her room to repair the damages of vigorous exercise, a thought occurred to her that removed her amusement. She was becoming quite fond of Henry and was inclined to attribute his weaknesses of character to overindulgence and lack of discipline; but there was no denying the boy had a mischievous streak and that he was quite intelligent enough to plan complicated tricks. The weird whispering voice at the last seance could well have been Henry's, and he was too young to comprehend what a terrible effect it might have.

The evening passed without incident, except that once again Marianne enjoyed a brief comforting talk with Dr. Gruffstone. She had always found the doctor helpful, even when he seemed suspicious of her; he radiated reliability and authority as a stove radiates warmth. On this occasion she felt that he was really beginning to consider her a friend, for he spoke, as he had never done before, of personal matters, especially of his son, who would soon be coming home. Though obviously proud of the young man's gallantry, he had nothing but criticism for the way matters had been handled in Afghanistan; he denounced the fighting there with his favorite phrase, "absolute balderdash!"

As Marianne started upstairs she heard the click of billiard balls from the room devoted to that entertainment and surmised that Carlton was working off whatever annoyed him in a typically masculine manner. He had hardly spoken all evening.

If she dreamed that night, she did not remember the dreams. But she woke with a strange feeling of heaviness and lay pondering the matter for some time before she realized what was troubling her. Today was Tuesday. The fateful anniversary was only three days off.

When she went to pay her morning call on the Duchess, she found her up and dressing, with the faithful Rose in attendance. The maid had evidently conquered her grief, but she had not gotten over her resentment of Marianne; her greeting was barely civil. The Duchess did not seem to notice.

"Enjoy the sunshine while it lasts, my child," she murmured. "It is all too brief…"

So Marianne left. Henry was lying in wait for her in the breakfast room. He barely allowed her time to eat before he demanded a repetition of the lawn-tennis game.

"A few more days of practice and you will be quite good at it," he remarked patronizingly. "For a girl, that is. Do hurry. I have been waiting ever so long."

Having nothing better to do, Marianne passed the morning with him. They returned to the house in time to see a hired carriage leaving. Henry craned his neck to see who was inside.

"My new tutor, I expect," he said. "Grandmother Honoria said one would be coming. That means I shall have only a few more days of holiday, Miss Ransom; we had better have another practice this afternoon."

"Impossible," Marianne said, laughing. "You know I am not as young as you; I have done quite enough for one day."

They were standing by the front steps, and as Henry argued his case Marianne fancied she saw a curtain in one of the upper windows move aside and a face peer out. Whether she was correct in identifying it she did not know; but it reminded her of poor timid Lady Violet, and she interrupted Henry with a firm "No, I really cannot. As for you, you ought to spend some time with your dear mama. That should be a pleasure as well as a duty."

"Oh." Henry thought a moment. "All right. She likes to read to me, and I don't mind it much… Thank you for your company, Miss Ransom. We must do it again sometime."

With a very dignified bow, he offered his arm and led her into the house.

The Duchess did not come down to luncheon, but Marianne found the doctor and Lady Annabelle deep in conversation. Lady Annabelle had taken advantage of the Duchess's absence to introduce several cats into the room, and Marianne was amused at the doctor's calm forbearance; he devoured his lunch quite unperturbed by the chorus of meows and by the sight of his namesake's tail waving like a banner above the edge of the table.

They were on the second course when the door opened and Carlton came in. He was wearing riding clothes and seemed to be in a particularly evil temper; with a sketchy bow toward Lady Annabelle and a gruff greeting to the others, he threw himself into a chair and demanded food.

The doctor stared at him in mild surprise. "Where have you been all morning? I had intended to challenge you to a game of billiards."

"I had an errand," Carlton replied, stabbing viciously at the piece of sole the footman had placed before him.

"Satisfactory, I hope?"

"Not at all."

The doctor raised his eyebrows and then turned to Lady Annabelle, inquiring politely about the health of Fluffy.

Since Marianne was not especially interested in Fluffy's health she ate in silence, wondering what Carlton was up to. He had taken several mysterious journeys lately. No doubt, she thought cynically, he is trying to find out something to my discredit.

Lady Annabelle never followed conventional social usage, and this occasion was no exception. Instead of giving the nods and winks that indicated to the ladies that it is time to retire, she rose abruptly midway through the last course. Remarking, "You are in a wretched mood, Carlton; you are making Horace the cat quite nervous; I shall go now," she took her departure, with the spoiled Horace in her arms. Caught unawares, Marianne started to rise too, but was waved back into her chair by the doctor.