estate as long as--he lives. The guardians will see to that."

"But you could run down there once in a while ... in the summer for
instance. Your place is always ready for you. I saw to that."

"Ah, yes, you saw to that." The wistful irony that he had so often
noted was visible again.

For the first time he understood its meaning.

"She has made things too easy for me," he reflected. "I should have
felt my chains. Then, too, I would have realised what I possessed
in her."

But did he not still possess her? What, after all, had changed since
those days of quiet companionship? Why should he think of her as
lost to him?

He could not answer this question. But he felt a dull restlessness. A
sense of estrangement told him: All is not here as it was.

"Since when do you live in dreams, Alice?" he asked, surveying the
empty table by which he had found her.

His question had been innocent, but it seemed to carry a sting. She
blushed and looked past him.

"How do you mean?"

"Good heavens, to sit all evening without books and let the light burn