ii

The second and even more pressing preoccupation was with Patricia and Harry. It had been clear to Edgar that Patricia, when he met her at Monty's, was changed, that she was not at peace. She had been restless and emotional beyond the ordinary. It seemed that her attitude to himself was different, and less cordial. He loved her, and any change was thus of importance to him. The same air of reluctance in her glances and speeches had been apparent during this evening. Only upon their walk had she seemed to return to an ordinary cameraderie. And at the height of their newly-rediscovered ease this encounter with Harry Greenlees had spoiled everything. Or had it been the encounter with Rhoda? Could it be—and Edgar's heart leapt at the thought—that Patricia had with chagrin noticed him in Rhoda's company at Monty's party; had thought.... It was fantastic. Patricia was not crude enough for that. Edgar brushed aside any notion so preposterous. Harry, then.... His mouth became stern.

Edgar was not, outside of business, analytical; but he took intricate views of whatever was unfamiliar. And Patricia was unfamiliar. She was his new and precious delight. During the whole of the evening he had watched her without direct scrutiny; had felt, and not calculated, her changes of expression, the quick, gentle turns of her head, the speedless flights of amusement, interest, disdain, hostility, and sympathy which were so easily to be read. And in each reference to himself he had discerned something unwelcome—flattering, perhaps, as showing that she did not ignore him; but unwelcome. All the arch curiosity which might have accompanied any consciousness of attraction was absent. What if this should be explicable by some feeling for Harry? It might easily be so. Edgar knew that, so far as he could imagine the standards of a young girl's heart and mind, there was no comparison between Harry and himself. Harry was a big fellow with a handsome face, a ready tongue, charm—with the very qualities, in fact, to make him the subject of sentimental dreams. And Edgar could not refuse to suppose Patricia capable of sentimental dreams. He fought against the notion; but common sense had greater power over him than the instinct to idealise the beloved. He recognised that Patricia, like other young girls, was probably romantic. Well, he was no figure of romance. That was all. If she employed romantic standards he stood no chance of winning her love in return for his devotion. The battle was lost before issue was joined.