"I shall come. Shall you dislike my coming?"
"Oh, no." He was undisguisedly indifferent and almost bored.
"And then I shall see Cecily Gainsborough."
"Have a good look at her. You'll not have another chance—at Blent anyhow. She'll never come here again."
She looked at him in wonder, in a sort of fear.
"How hard you are sometimes," she said. "The poor girl's done nothing to you."
He shook his head impatiently and came to a stand on the road.
"You're going back? Good-by, Lord Tristram."
"I'm not called that till after the funeral," he told her, looking as suspicious as he had in the earliest days of their acquaintance.