er bed, and wander round the room playing
with Joanna's ornaments--she wore a little satisfied smile on her face,
and about her was a queer air of restlessness and contentment which
baffled and annoyed her sister.

The officers from Lydd did not now come so often to Ansdore. Ellen's
most constant visitor at this time was the son of the people who had
taken Great Ansdore dwelling-house. Tip Ernley had just come back from
Australia; he did not like colonial life and was looking round for
something to do at home. He was a county cricketer, an exceedingly
nice-looking young man, and his people were a good sort of people, an
old West Sussex family fallen into straightened circumstances.

On his account Joanna came downstairs sooner than she ought. She could
not get rid of her distrust of Ellen, the conviction that once her
sister was left to herself she would be up to all sorts of mischief.
Ellen had behaved impossibly once and therefore, according to Joanna,
there was no guarantee that she would not go on behaving impossibly to
the end of time. So she came down to play the dragon to Tip Ernley as
she had played the dragon to the young lieutenants of the summer. There
was not much for her to do--she saw at once that the boy was different
from the officers, a simple-minded creature, strong, gentle and
clean-living, with deferential eyes and manners. Joanna liked him at
first sight, and relented. They had tea together, and a game of
three-handed bridge afterwards--Ellen had taught her sister to play
bridge.

Then as the evening wore on, and the mists crept up from the White Kemp
Sewer to muffle the windows of Ansdore and make Joanna's bones twinge
and ache, she knew that she had come down too late. These young people
had had time enough to settle their hearts' business in a little less
than a week, and Joanna God-dam could not scare them apart. Of course
there was nothing to fear--this fine, shy man would make no assault on
Ellen Alce's frailty, it was merely a case of Ellen Alce becoming Ellen
Ernley, if he could be persuaded to overlook her "past"--a matter which
Joanna thought important and doubtful. But the elder sister's heart
twinged and ached as much as her bones. There was not only the thought
that she might lose Ellen once more and have to go back to her lonely
living ... her heart was sick to think that again love had come under
her roof and had not visited her. Love ... love ... for Ellen--no more
for Joanna Godd