did not know himself; he was in a strange world, and bewildered.
Nay, he was suffering anguish.

Why had Miss Derwent disregarded him at breakfast? He must have
offended her last night. And that could only be in one way, by
neglecting his work to loiter about the drawing-room. She had
respected him at all events; now, no doubt she fancied he had not
deserved her respect.

This magnificent piece of self-torturing logic sufficed to occupy
him all the morning.

At luncheon-time he was careful not to come down before the bell
rang. As he prepared himself, the glass showed a drawn visage, heavy
eyes; he thought he was uglier than ever.

Descending, he heard no voices. With tremors he stepped into the
dining-room, and there sat Mrs. Hannaford alone.

"They have gone off for the day," she said, with a kind look. "To
Dorking, and Leith Hill, and I don't know where."

Piers felt a stab through the heart. He stammered something about a
hope that they would enjoy themselves. The meal passed very
silently, for Mrs. Hannaford was meditative. She paid unusual
attention to Piers, trying to tempt his appetite; but with
difficulty he swallowed a mouthful. And, the meal over, he returned
at once to his room.

About four o'clock--he was lying on the bed, staring at the