Mrs. Cricklander got up from her reclining position among the cushions.
This was a blow. She wished now she had not encouraged Mr. Hanbury-Green
to come and sit with her; it might be a lost opportunity which it would
be difficult to recapture again. But she had felt so very much annoyed
at Mr. Derringham's capriciousness, displayed the whole of the Monday,
and then at his absenting himself to-day, having gone to see the
Professor, of course--since he was out of the house at tea-time when she
had sent to his room to enquire--that she had determined to see what a
little jealousy would do for him. But if he were off on the morrow this
might not be a safe moment to try it.

Mr. Hanbury-Green, however, had not the slightest intention of giving up
his place, in spite of several well-directed hints, and sat on like one
belonging to the spot.

So they all had to go off to dress without any longed-for word having
been spoken. And Mrs. Cricklander was far too circumspect a hostess to
attempt to arrange a _tête-à-tête_ after dinner under the eye of an
important social leader like Lady Maulevrier, whom she had only just
succeeded in enticing to stay in her country house. So, with the usual
semi-political chaff, the evening passed, and good-nights and good-bys
were said, and early next day John Derringham left for London.

He would write--he decided--and all the way up in the train he buried
himself in the engrossing letters and papers he had received from his
Chief by the morning's post.

And for the next six weeks he was in such a turmoil of hard work and
deep and serious questions about a foreign State that he very seldom had
time to go into society, and when at last he was a little more free,