"It would be," he remarked, smoothly, "a mistake to quarrel."

They separated, and immediately afterwards the ball was found. A little
later on the round was finished. Clara attributed her success to the
excellence of her caddie. Mrs. Handsell deplored a headache, which had
put her off her putting. Lindsay, who was in a bad temper, declined an
invitation to lunch, and rode off on his bicycle. The rest of the little
party gathered round the motor car, and Borrowdean asked preposterous
questions about the gears and the speeds.

"If you are really interested," Mrs. Handsell said, languidly, "I will
take you home. I have only room for one, unfortunately, with all these
clubs and things."

"I should be delighted," Borrowdean answered, "but perhaps Miss
Mannering--"

"Clara will look after me," Mannering interrupted, smiling. "Try to make
an enthusiast of him, Mrs. Handsell. He needs a hobby badly."

They started off. She leaned back in her seat and pulled her veil down.

"Do not talk to me here," she said. "We shall have a quarter of an hour
before they can arrive."

Borrowdean assented silently. He was glad of the respite, for he wanted
to think. A few minutes' swift rush through the air, and the car pulled
up before a queer, old-fashioned dwelling house in the middle of the
village. A smart maid-servant came hurrying out to assist her mistress.