that they would be better without Uncle George. She hated him. That
seemed to be the sum total of her objection.

Maurice had left The Place the morning after his engagement. He had
had time to have an interview with his little _fiancée_, who seemed
surprised that he wanted it in private, and who, to his great
relief, insisted on making very cool adieux to him in the public
hall, where everyone was passing to and fro, and where Mr. Gower was
making a nuisance of himself by playing ball against the library
door. Naturally it was impossible to have an affecting parting
there.

Marian had not come down to breakfast. And Sir Maurice was conscious
of a passionate sense of relief. She had heard. He knew--he felt
that! His mother would not spare her; and even if she had not cared
as _he_ had cared, still, unless she was the greatest fiend on
earth, she must have had some small love for him--how _terribly_
small he knows! He assures himself of that all day long in the
living torture he is enduring, as if by it he can reconcile himself
to his marriage with this child, whose money is so hateful, and
whose presence is such a bore.

There are a few things, however, always to be thankful for. Tita, in
the frankest fashion in all their interviews, has told him that she
doesn't care a fig about him, that she was marrying him _only_ to
escape from Uncle George!

All their interviews have been but few. Sir Maurice had run down
from here, and there, and everywhere, just for a night at a time,
arriving barely in time for dinner, and going away before breakfast.