"I was a fool ever to think you could care for me," he said sadly. The circumstances of the week they had spent together, since their meeting at the station, had completely dissipated their first feelings of awkwardness. They were almost on the dull footing of a brother and sister, who have very little in common, but who have learnt the trick of companionship.
"I let you think I did. It was my fault, as I told you before. Hadn't we better let it drop?" she said brusquely. "Oh, heavens! how old I am beginning to look," she added, as she caught a glimpse of herself in the glass over the mantelshelf.
"It is only because you are tired," he said, looking at her.
She laughed.
"At least you are truthful," she said, carelessly; "tell me you are not wild with me, Jack. I have treated you abominably, haven't I? If only you were not so provokingly good-tempered about it, I should feel much better, I think. I always did hate whipping a dog that didn't howl. Ah, you don't understand a bit! I believe I am rotten all through, and that is why I have dished my life so effectually. And I'm not a bit sorry, and I mean to have a good time still. Hey-day! But tell me you're not wild, Jack."
"Oh, that's all straight now. And it's much worse for you, don't you know," he said, stumbling on the truth in his slow way; "I shall do all right; don't you fret yourself about me. I ought to have known I shouldn't do for you. Digby will take you to the station, eh?"
"I am going alone," she answered abruptly, and went out into the porch, where most of the family had come to see her off. Owing to some mismanagement on the part of the handy man, who, having been the most important man in the village since the Squire's death and funeral, had completely neglected his usual work ever since, the pony needed shoeing on this particular afternoon, and Lady Joan could not be driven to the station in consequence. She persisted in her determination to walk alone, and Digby remained in awkward silence while his escort was being freely pressed upon her by his unconscious relations. Poor Lady Raleigh, more inconsequent than ever in the midst of her grief, kissed her convulsively, and poured out a confused medley of entreaties into her ear.
"You won't take anything to heart, dear, that Jack has said to you? He doesn't mean anything he says, you know, so you must believe him when he says he loves you as much as ever. He tells me it is all right, so I am not going to say anything about it; but of course you'll look on this as your home until he marries you, won't you, dear? And I assure you Jack cannot bear to be away from you a single hour, but he does like to stay in his home best, so you won't think anything of his not walking to the station with you. Of course Digby is only too pleased to go with you, and all the fields about here are crowded with dangerous bulls, and if you are not quick you will lose the train, and they never keep it for you at these country stations, you know. So you must have Digby, of course. And you are sure you understand about dear Jack? You mustn't listen to him, that's all; he says he is so fond of you still, dear boy."
"Do have Digby, Joan; he doesn't leave till to-morrow, and he only hangs about the place doing nothing, and it will take him out for an hour." This from Helen.
"I am sorry to disappoint everybody," said Lady Joan, in her clearest, most composed tones; "but if I did lose the train, Digby would not be of the least use to me in producing another one; and I'm afraid I am not nearly unselfish enough to burden myself with his company for the good of the community; so good-bye, sir;" and she gave him a straight look out of her eyes as she held out her hand. It was the first time she had spoken directly to him since they had parted that night in Pont Street, and he avoided her eyes.