sked she hardly knew--some of the conventional,
unimportant questions which are tossed to and fro on such occasions.
What she answered mattered still less; the mere fact of his presence
eclipsed all. The bigness of him, the strongness, the firm, dark face,
the deep bass voice, the masculine presence after the long, monotonous
months, with no companionship save that of two old women. It was as if
a part of the girl's being which had been drugged to sleep awoke
suddenly and clamoured for existence.

At the door of the library Vanna knew a momentary pause. Conscious of
her own transformed face, she shrank with something like shame from
facing old Mrs Rendall. What would she say? What would she think?
Another moment proved the needlessness of her dread, for on this happy
day of reunion the mother had no eyes for any one but her son. In a
mechanical fashion she went through the ordinary list of questions, and
Vanna vouchsafed the ordinary replies; but the ordinary interest was
impossible while Piers stood with his back to the fire, puffing at his
cigarette, listening with a smile on his face.

That smell of smoke impregnating an atmosphere which was usually equally
reminiscent of furniture polish and paregoric--how intoxicating it smelt
in Vanna's nostrils! She kept her eyes riveted on the old lady's face
so long as conversation between them continued, but the moment that
mother and son were engrossed with each other, her eyes returned
greedily to the long, straight limbs, the close-cropped head, the
strong, sinewy hands. Youth called to youth. Sex called to sex.

At the end of ten minutes' general conversation Piers made the move for
which Vanna had anxiously been waiting.

"When will lunch be ready, mother? Miss Strangeways must stay to lunch
in honour of my return. We'll go a little turn round the grounds and be
back in half an hour. Then I'll ride over with her, and see Miggles
while you have your rest."

A shade of disappointment passed over Mrs Rendall's face. It was hard
to allow her son to pass out of her sight for even half an hour, but she
assented quietly, after the manner of mothers of grown-up sons, and the
two young people strolled out into the garden.

The geranium beds were bare and brown, but the lawn was still a velvety
green and the belt of evergreen trees presented a similitude of summer.
Piers led the way forward, and Vanna followed, a smile upon her lips.

"The Happy Land?"

"The H