"Sunday, possibly; it all depends on Miss Annesley, sir. In Virginia
nearly every night was ours. Here it's different." William hurriedly
pulled on his rubber boots and gloves, grabbed up the carriage
sponges, and vanished.

Warburton sat on the edge of his cot and laughed silently. All this
was very amusing. Had any man, since the beginning of time, found
himself in a like position? He doubted it. And he was to be butler
besides! It would be something to remember in his old age. Yet, once
or twice the pins of his conscience pricked him. He _wasn't_
treating Nancy just right. He didn't want her to cry over his
gracelessness; he didn't want her to think that he was heartless. But
what could he do? He stood too deeply committed.

He was puzzled about one thing, however, and, twist it as he would,
he could not solve it with any degree of satisfaction. Why, after
what had happened, had she hired him? If she could pass over that
episode at the carriage-door and forget it, _he_ couldn't. He
knew that each time he saw her the memory of that embrace and
brotherly salute would rise before his eyes and rob him of some of
his assurance--an attribute which was rather well developed in Mr.
Robert, though he was loath to admit it. If his actions were a
mystery to her, hers were none the less so to him. He made up his
mind to move guardedly in whatever he did, to practise control over
his mobile features so as to avert any shock or thoughtless sign of
interest. He knew that sooner or later the day would come when he
would be found out; but this made him not the less eager to court
that day.