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 He kissed her perfunctorily.

"Good night."

"Good night, Henry. Be sure to open your window."

Lying sleepless in his bed that night Henry planned to leave the next day. But when he wakened in the morning he had a bad case of lumbago. He had never had anything much before, and he was convinced that he was in a serious condition. Every time he moved he groaned. It was, indeed, between groans that he had his interview with Kay.

"You mean," said Kay, staring down at him, white and angry, "that you forbid me to ride out with Tom McNair?"

"That's what I've said. I generally mean what I say."

"But—how dare you, father? Howcan you? You would think I'd done something wicked."

"Not necessarily." He groaned again. "Unwise, certainly."

"But what has happened? You haven't objected before. Just what is it you are afraid of, father?" she asked, more gently. "I won't disgrace you. You know that."

"He's not your kind."

"He's a man. And because you know he's a man and not a tailor's dummy, you're afraid. Isn't that it?" And when he said nothing to that she was suddenly frightened. "You haven't spoken to him, have you?"

"I think he understands my position."

Later on he told Katherine.

"I tell you she's infatuated with him. Infatuated! That's the only word I can think of."

"Temporarily, perhaps, that's all. Is that pillow right?"

"No, damn it. Take it out. What do you mean, temporarily? We'll look well if she walks into town while I'm laid up here and marries him."

"I don't think she has the remotest intention of marrying him."

"Oh, you don't? Well then, I wish you'd seen and heard her in here a while ago."

"I daresay you weren't very tactful."

"Tactful hell! Why should I be tactful? She's lost her mind."