"'Causing her unhappiness,'--poor little Betty, poor little trusting
innocent silly little girl! That's about it, isn't it?"

It was so like it that he hotly answered:

"Not in the least."

"Well, well," said Miss Desmond, "there's no great harm done. She'll
get over it, and more's been lost on market days. Thanks."

She lighted a second cigarette and sat very upright, the cigarette in
her mouth and her hands on the handle of her stick.

"You can't help it, of course. Men with your coloured eyes never can.
That green hazel--girls ought to be taught at school that it's a
danger-signal. Only, since your heart's not in the business any more
than her's is--as you say, you were both bored to death--I want to ask
you, as a personal favour to me, just to let the whole thing drop. Let
the girl alone. Go right away."

"It's an unimportant detail, and I'm ashamed to mention it," said
Vernon, "but I've got a picture on hand--I'm painting a bit of the
Warren."

"Well, go to Low Barton and put up there and finish your precious
picture. You won't see Betty again unless you run after her."

"To tell the truth," said Vernon, "I had already decided to let the
whole thing drop. I'm ashamed of the trouble I've caused her and--and
I've taken rooms at Low Barton."