Speaking in short, broken sentences, she obeyed him: "It was when we used to go about much more than we do now - in the first two or three years after our marriage. I suppose that every woman - who isn't quite happy with her husband - is exposed to that kind of thing. I used to loathe it when I saw it coming. I used to try and fend it off. Sometimes I succeeded - more often I failed. But I never, never expected anything of the sort to happen with you, Oliver. We were such friends - such good, happy friends - you and I and my little Alice," and then she burst into a passion of weeping.

And at that what self-control Oliver Tropenell had retained departed. A flood of burning, passionate words burst from his lips - of endearment, of self-abasement, and promises which he intended, come what might, should be kept.

And she listened shrinkingly, with averted face, absorbed in her own bewildered pain and disappointment.

"I must go back to the house," she said at last. "The doctor will be here in half an hour." And she forced herself to add: "Perhaps you'll be coming over this afternoon?" (How often she had said these words in the last three months - but in how different a tone!).

"I think not. My mother said something about wishing me to stay in today - Lord St. Amant may be coming over." As she made no comment, he concluded quietly, "Well, I suppose I had better be going now. Goodbye, Laura."

"Goodbye," she said. And without taking her hand he left her.

She watched his tall figure making its way quickly down through the rough ground to the wood where, ultimately, he would find a path which would lead him to his mother's house.

It was late in the afternoon of the same day. From where she was sitting, under a great cedar tree, Mrs. Tropenell at last saw her son Oliver and Godfrey Pavely come out of Freshley Manor.

Though the glory and warmth of the summer were now over, Mrs. Tropenell still spent many hours of each day in her garden. She had always been an out-of-door woman from the days when she was an eager, impetuous, high-spirited girl, till now, when youth had gone, though something of the eager impetuosity of youth remained with her concealed from strangers by a manner marked by a strong sense of personal dignity.

The two men began walking, slowly, down the grass path leading to the beech avenue which was the glory of Freshley 

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