in Ballymoy?" 

 Meldon sat up suddenly. 

 "You don't mean that? Surely you can't intend—" 

 "Now you're shocked," said Miss King, "and you said you wouldn't be." 

 "I am a little. I didn't think I could be. But I am. I never imagined—" 

 "But that's exactly what I'm going to Ballymoy for. I want complete quiet in a lonely place where I shan't be disturbed." 

 "Of course, it's no business of mine," said Meldon.  "But don't you think that perhaps you've done enough?" 

 "No. I have a great deal to do yet. If it were simply a question of earning money—" 

 Meldon looked at her. She was very well dressed. The bag which lay open at her side was fitted with silver-topped bottles. Her cigarette case appeared to be of gold. She was travelling first class. She had taken Ballymoy House for two months. He was quite ready to believe that she did not want money. 

 "Do you mean to say that you're doing it simply for amusement?" he asked. 

 "No. Not amusement."  Her voice dropped to a kind of solemn whisper. "For the love of my art." 

 Miss King took herself very seriously indeed, and was accustomed to talk a good deal about her art. Literary people who might have known better, and critics who certainly did know better, encouraged her. They also talked about her art. 

 "Of course, if you look at it that way," said Meldon, "there's no more to be said; but you mustn't expect me to help you." 

 "You!" 

 "No. As a clergyman I can't possibly do it. Nor will the Major, unless he's greatly changed. I don't expect Doyle will either. He's president of the local branch of the League, but I'm sure he draws the line at—" 

 "But I don't want any of you to help me. Why should I?" 

 "I'm glad to hear that, at all events," said Meldon.  "For, unless under very exceptional circumstances, I couldn't 

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