vil. There was no trace in the old
woman now of her earlier irony--no sign in Rachel of irritation or
rebellion.

But the girl knew that war was declared, that her only ally was one in
whose alliance lay, for her, the very heart of danger.

All these things she might hide from the world--from Christopher she
knew that she could hide nothing.

II

It was on an early afternoon in May that Christopher had tea with
Rachel. He had waited for his visit with very real anxiety; the letters
that he had had from her had been unsatisfactory, not because they were
actively expressive of unhappiness, but because there was an effort in
every word of them--Rachel had never found it difficult to write to him
before.

He was also uneasy because he had been against this marriage from the
beginning. He did, as he said to the Duchess, know Rachel better than
anyone else knew her; he knew her from his love for her, and also from
that scientific study that he applied in his profession. And he had
found, too, in her, as he had found in Breton, some strain of fierce
helplessness, as of an animal caught in a trap, that especially moved
his interest and affection--

Was Rachel's marriage a disaster? If so she had certainly managed to
conceal it, for even the Duchess did not know--of that he was sure.

If Rachel were indeed unhappy would she come to him as she used to come
to him?

What change had marriage wrought in her?

It was one of those May days when the weather is hot before London is
ready. It was a day of tension; buildings, streets quivered beneath a
sun in whose gaze there was no kindliness nor comfort. Christopher drove
from Eaton Square, where, for some hours he had been engaged in
preventing an old man from dying, when both the old man himself and all
his friends and relations were convinced that death was the best thing
for him--

Sloane Street ran like white steel before his eyes, not dimly veiled as
he had so often seen it; Park Lane offered houses that stared with
haughty faces upon a world that would, they knew, do anything for
money--

Elliston Square itself was white and sterile; the town was, on this
afternoon, irritated, sinister ... feet ached upon its pavements and
hearts were suddenly clutched with foreboding.

As he ascended in the lift to her flat he knew that, did he find that
this marriage was, truly, a misadventure for Rachel, then, until his
death, he would reproach himself for some weak inaction