John Derringham made a point of slipping away on the Easter Tuesday afternoon; he determined to drink tea with the Misses La Sarthe.

He went to his room with important letters to write, and then sneaked down again like a truant schoolboy, and when he got safely out of sight, struck obliquely across the park to the one vulnerable spot in the haw-haw, and after fumbling a good deal, from his side, managed to get the spikes out and to climb down, and repeat the operation upon the other side.

There was no water here, it was on rather higher ground, and he was soon striding up the beech avenue towards the house.
"It would be an extremely awkward place to get over in the dark," he thought, and then he was conscious that Halcyone was far in the distance in front of him, almost entering the house.
So she would be in, then--that was good.
He had never permitted his mind to dwell upon her for an instant, after the Sunday walk.

He made himself tell himself that she was a charming child whom he felt great pity for, on account of her lonely life.

That he himself took a special interest in her he would not have admitted for a second to his innermost thought.