till the doubt that consumed
him, but contact with her hands, her eyes.

For that, and other reasons, the difficult meeting had been followed by
a difficult day. They had wandered through the house and garden, very
carefully veiling their emotions. They had lounged and smoked in the
studio, looking through his father's latest pictures. They had talked
of the family. Jeffers would be down to-morrow night, for the week-end;
Tiny on Tuesday with the precious Baby; Jerry, distinctly coming round,
and eager to see Roy. Even Aunt Jane sounded a shade keen. And he,
undeserving, had scarcely expected them to 'turn a hair.' Then they
discussed the Indian situation; and Roy--forgetting to be shy--raged at
finding how little those at Home had been allowed to realise, to
understand.

Not a question, so far, about his rapid on-and-off engagement, for which
mercy he was duly grateful. And of her, who dwelt in the foreground and
background of their thoughts--not a word.

It would take a little time, Roy supposed, to build their bridge across
the chasm of three and a half eventful years. You couldn't hustle a
lapsed intimacy. To-morrow things would go better, especially if....

Yet, throughout, he had been touched inexpressibly by his father's
unobtrusive tokens of pleasure and affection: and now--sitting together
with their cigars, in the last of the daylight--things felt easier.

"Dad," he said suddenly, turning his eyes from the garden to the man
beside him, who was also its spiritual product. "If I seem a bit
stupefied, it's because I'm still walking and talking in a dream;
terrified I may wake up and find it's not true! I can't, in a twinkling,
adjust the beautiful, incredible _sameness_ of all this, with the
staggering changes inside me."

His father's smile had its friendly, understanding quality.

"No hurry, Boy. All your deep roots are here. Change as much as you
please, you still remain--her son."

"Yes--that's it. The place is full of her," Roy said very low; and at
present they could not trust themselves to say more.

It had not escaped Sir Nevil's notice that the boy had avoided the
drawing-room, and had not once been under the twin beeches, his
favourite summer retreat. No hammock was slung there now.

After a considerable gap, Roy remarked carelessly: "I suppose they must
have got home by now?"

"About an hour ago, to be exact," said Sir Nevil; and Roy's involuntary
start moved him to add: "You're not runnin