"Well?" said her father, after a pause.
"That invitation from Uncle William was your doing," continued Joan, levelling an incriminating finger at him.
"Trimblett's idea," said her father, anxious to give credit where it was due. "His idea was that if you were to go away for a time Robert Vyner would very likely forget all about you."
"I'm not afraid of that," said Joan, with a slight smile. "I mean—I mean—what business has Captain Trimblett to concern himself about my affairs?"
"I know what you mean," said Hartley, in a low voice.
He got up, and crossing to the window stood looking out on his beloved garden. His thoughts went back to the time, over twenty years ago, when he and his young wife had planted it. He remembered that in those far-off days she had looked forward with confidence to the time when he would be offered a share in the firm. For a moment he felt almost glad——
"I suppose that Captain Trimblett is right," said Joan, who had been watching him closely; "and I'll go when you like."
Her father came from the window. "Yes," he said, and stood looking at her.
"I am going out a little way," said Joan, suddenly.
Hartley started, and glanced instinctively at the clock. "Yes," he said again.