e up and joined them.

It always amused Rachel to see her two uncles together. The Duke was a
little dried-up wasp of a man, absolutely selfish, with a satirical
tongue and a self-conceit that nothing could pierce. He wore high white
collars, over which his brown sharp face searched for compliments. He
walked on his toes, his hands were most wonderfully manicured and his
trousers were so stiff and rigid over his thin little legs that they
looked like iron. The one soft spot in him was a strangely tender
affection for his sister Adela which was in no way returned; for her,
and for her alone, he would forget his selfishness. Richard and John he
despised.

"Well, John," he said. "Well, Rachel?"

"Well, Uncle Vincent," she said. The Duke was afraid of Rachel because
her tongue was as sharp as his, but he respected her for that.

"Going up to see mother?"

"Yes," said Rachel. Should she go? Should she go?

Suddenly, arising, as it seemed, out of that crowd of moving figures and
coming and standing there in front of her, was her answer.

Yes, she would go. All these months of indetermination should be ended.
She should know, once and for all, what this Francis Breton meant to
her, what that other life of hers meant to her, and so, in opposition,
what Roddy meant to her. She would, as Christopher would have put it,
grapple with her Tiger....

Instantly, the relief, the glad, happy relief showed her how wretched
life had been.

"What about this war, Uncle Vincent?" she said.

"Well--hem--well--no need to worry--_I_ assure you--no need to worry!"

"It seems a pity," said Lord John, still looking furtively at Rachel and
wishing that he could carry her off into some other corner and just ask
her whether she were really happy or no.

"Why, John," said the Duke, cackling. "You'll have to go out, 'pon my
word, you will--fight 'em, by Jove--Ha! ha! You'd make a fine soldier,
old boy."

Rachel got up, hating Uncle Vincent very much. She put her hand on Uncle
John's fat arm.

"You may go, Uncle Vincent," she said. "We all give you leave--Uncle
John we love too much: if it's a question of bravery he'd be quite
certainly the first of this family." She gave his arm a squeeze.

Uncle Vincent looked at her, smiling--

"Well," he said. "None of us would dream of going ... we're all much too
comfortable."

"I'll see you before I go, uncle dear," she whispered to Lord John. Then
she moved away.

Slowly making her path th