om what she expected, but there was no
anger in her heart against the two who had disturbed her peace. With
unusual fairness of mind she realised their unconsciousness, their
unwillingness to offend. Things had just happened. No one was to
blame. This philosophic attitude did not prevent her from being
exceedingly short and snappy with her family for the rest of the
evening, or from refusing coldly to partake of the fowl which had been
provided for her delectation. To some natures a scapegoat is necessary,
and in nine cases out of ten they are conveniently discovered in the
home circle.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

STOLEN HOURS.

Driving home in the car Cassandra was conscious of contending emotions
which carried her back to nursery days; pleasure, excitement, an
underlying gnawing of guilt. So had she felt, stealthily playing in a
corner with a toy purloined from a sister's store, and yet, as she
assured herself, there was no need for compunction. She had invited
both Teresa and Dane; it was not her fault if the girl chose to refuse;
not her fault if the man was ungallant enough to accept. Yet the
feeling of guilt persisted. She looked curiously at Peignton to see if
he shared her discomfort, but never did a man look more serene and
unperturbed. Happy too! The thrill of pleasurable excitement which in
her case was a real, though secondary sensation, was, to judge by
appearance, all-pervading in his case. His eyes shone, the tired-out
look had disappeared; his lips smiled.

"What a good thing a good car is! I used to swear by walking, but the
time has come when I find it very agreeable to slip into a cushioned
seat, and be whirled where I would go. There's something mysteriously
fatiguing about decorating churches; haven't you found it so? Perhaps
it is the necessity of keeping quiet and forbearing from expressing
oneself as one otherwise would, when one is unexpectedly scratched or
bruised. In any case, I _am_ tired. And hungry! It is good of you to
offer to feed me."

Cassandra smiled with the comfortable assurance of one who takes perfect
meals as a matter of course. There was no consciousness of cold mutton,
no fear of a heavy pudding, to mar her enjoyment of an unexpected guest,
but having never experienced a housekeeper's anxiety, she failed to
appreciate the relief.

"I hope they will give you something fit to eat!"

"And afterwards... Will you show me your garden?"

"I have no special gard