"Ah, yes, I said so to Mrs. Gasgoyne the other day, and she replied that
the refreshment might prove intoxicating. Reine was always rude."

Truth is, Mrs. Gasgoyne was not quite satisfied. That very day she said
to her husband:

"You men always stand by each other; but I know you, and you know that I
know."

"'Thou knowest the secrets of our hearts'; well, then, you know how we
love you. So, be merciful."

"Nonsense, Warren! I tell you he oughtn't to have gone when he did. He
has the wild man in him, and I am not satisfied."

"What do you want--me to play the spy?"

"Warren, you're a fool! What do I want? I want the first of September
to come quickly, that we may have him with us. With Delia he must go
straight. She influences him, he admires her--which is better than mere
love. Away from her just now, who can tell what mad adventure--! You
see, he has had the curb so long!"

But in a day or two there came a letter-unusually long for Gaston--
to Mrs. Gasgoyne herself. It was simple, descriptive, with a dash of
epigram. It acknowledged that he had felt the curb, and wanted a touch
of the unconventional. It spoke of Ian Belward in a dry phrase, and it
asked for the date of the yacht's arrival at Gibraltar.