some feminine weakness.

“I hope they’re pleasant thoughts.”

“Not altogether, Jack. Sometimes they’re queer and sometimes a bit disconcerting. Foolish for a woman like me to talk like this, isn’t it?”

He laughed easily. “I know no person less foolish.”

She did not answer but continued to gaze into the fire, her eyes a little disturbed. Her brother wanted time to think, being convinced that it was most important that for the present at any rate Edith should remain unaware of certain things. Perkins, for instance. However competent Perkins might be, she could not in any sense be called a normal woman. Perhaps he was not at this time normal himself. Something assured him that no revelation would be made from the unknown to his sister. Her wireless set might be affected, but it was not tuned to the right wave-length. After all, there was no reason why matters should not proceed smoothly enough.

“Why are your reflections disconcerting?” he hazarded.

“I don’t know. It’s stupid of me, and I call myself an idiot for being affected at all. The funny thing, Jack, is that I’m gradually beginning to consider myself absolutely superficial to something or other—I don’t know what. The house is running well, and Perkins is a treasure; a little chilling at times, but the best servant I’ve ever had. Things seem to do themselves at her desire. Why should I feel superficial?”

He shook his head. “You’re anything but that. What else is the matter?”

“Nothing whatever, and yet—” She got up restlessly and balanced herself on the corner of the desk close to the dull stain. But it had no message for her. “If you say definitely that we made no mistake in taking Beech Lodge, I’ll feel a lot better. Isn’t it silly of me? There’s everything here one wants, and all a housekeeper could desire, but—”

He felt a touch of apprehension and laughed it off. “You’re only a bit lonely, and probably I’ve been selfish in planting you in such a lonely spot for the sake of that confounded novel. I admit to being a bit spoiled. But we have neighbors. What about the Millicents?”

“They’re about three miles from here in a cottage. Perkins tells me the daughter is twenty-two and very pretty but has never got over her father’s death. They were devoted to each other.”

“You’ll see them 

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