'No manners!' said Mrs Drassilis. 'None whatever. I always saidso.'

　　She spoke bitterly. She was following the automobile with anoffended eye as it moved down the drive.

　　The car rounded the corner. Sam turned and waved a farewell. Mrand Mrs Ford, seated close together in the tonneau, did not evenlook round.

　　Mrs Drassilis sniffed disgustedly.

　　'She's a friend of Cynthia's. Cynthia asked me to come down herewith her to see you. I came, to oblige her. And now, without aword of apology, she leaves me stranded. She has no mannerswhatever.'

　　I offered no defence of the absent one. The verdict more or lesssquared with my own opinion.

　　'Is Cynthia back in England?' I asked, to change the subject.

　　'The yacht got back yesterday. Peter, I have something of theutmost importance to speak to you about.' She glanced at Jarvisthe chauffeur, leaning back in his seat with the air, peculiar tochauffeurs in repose, of being stuffed. 'Walk down the drive withme.'

　　I helped her out of the car, and we set off in silence. There wasa suppressed excitement in my companion's manner which interestedme, and something furtive which brought back all my old dislike ofher. I could not imagine what she could have to say to me that hadbrought her all these miles.

　　'How _do_ you come to be down here?' she said. 'When Cynthiatold me you were here, I could hardly believe her. Why are you amaster at this school? I cannot understand it!'

　　'What did you want to see me about?' I asked.

　　She hesitated. It was always an effort for her to be direct. Now,apparently, the effort was too great. The next moment she hadrambled off on some tortuous bypath of her own, which, though itpresumably led in the end to her destination, was evidently a longway round.

　　'I have known you for so many years now, Peter, and I don't know ofanybody whose character I admire more. You are so generous--quixoticin fact. You are one of the few really unselfish men I have evermet. You are always thinking of other people. Whatever it cost you,I know you would not hesitate to give up anything if you felt thatit was for someone else's happiness. I do admire you so for it.

　　One meets so few young men nowadays who consider anybody exceptthemselves.'

　　She paused, either for breath or for fresh ideas, and I tookadvantage of the lull in the rain of bouquets to repeat myquestion.

　　'What _did_ you want to see me about?' I asked patiently.

　　'About Cynthia. She asked me to see you.'

　　'Oh!'

　　'You got a letter from her.'

　　'Yes.'

　　'Last night, when she came home, she told me about it, and showedme your answer. It was a beautiful letter, Peter. I'm sure I criedwhen I read it. And Cynthia did, I feel certain. Of course, to agirl of her character that letter was final. She is so loyal, dearchild.'