John Derringham reached Wendover--by the road and the lodge gates--in an impossible temper.

He had left the orchard house coming as near to a quarrel with his old master as such a thing could be.

He absolutely refused to let himself dwell upon the anger he had felt; and if Fate had given him a distinct and pointed chance to ask the fair Cecilia for her lily hand, when he knocked at her sitting-room door before dinner, he would no doubt have left the next day--summoned again to London by his Chief--an engaged man.

But this turn of events was not in the calculations of Destiny for the moment, and he found no less a person than Mr.Hanbury-Green already ensconced by his hostess's side.

They were both smoking and looked very comfortable and at ease.
"I just came in to tell you I shall be obliged to tear myself away to-morrow," John Derringham said, "and cannot have the pleasure of staying to the end of the week in this delightful place." Mrs.Cricklander got up from her reclining position among the cushions.
This was a blow.