earth and thick hedgerows and the cluck of pheasants. But
there were at all events the fields wondrously green after the brown
hill-sides and rusty grass, the little rich fields in the frames of
their hedges, and the brown-roofed houses and the woods splashing their
emerald branches in the sunlight. Hillyard travelled up through Kent
rejoicing. He reached London in the afternoon, and leaving his luggage
in his flat walked down to the house in the quiet street behind the
Strand whence Commodore Graham overlooked the Thames.

But even in this backwater the changes of the war were evident. The
brass plates had all gone from the door post and girls ran up and down
the staircases in stockings which some Allied fairies had woven on
Midsummer morning out of cobwebs of dew. They were, however, as unaware
as of old of any Commodore Graham. Was he quite certain that he wanted
to see Commodore Graham. And why? And, after all, was there a Commodore
Graham? Gracious damsels looked blandly at one another, with every
apparent desire to assist this sunburnt stranger. It seemed to Hillyard
that they would get for him immediately any one else in the world whom
he chose to name. It was just bitterly disappointing and contrarious
that the one person he wished to see was a Commodore Graham. Oh,
couldn't he be reasonable and ask for somebody else?

"Very well," said Hillyard with a smile. "There was a pretty girl with
grey eyes, and I'll see her."

"The description is vague," said the young lady demurely.

"She is Miss Cheyne."

"Oh!" said one.

"Oh!" said another; and

"Will you follow me, please?" said a third, who at once became
business-like and brisk, and led him up the stairs. The door was still
unvarnished. Miss Cheyne opened it, wearing the composed expression of
attention with which she had greeted Hillyard when he had sought
admission first. But her face broke up into friendliness and smiles,
when she recognised him, and she drew him into the room.

"The Commodore's away for a week," she said. "He had come to the end: no
sleep, nerves all jangled. He is up in Scotland shooting grouse."

Hillyard nodded. His news could wait a week very well, since it had
waited already two years.

"And you?" he asked.

"Oh, I had a fortnight," replied Miss Cheyne, her eyes dancing at the
recollection. It was her pleasure to sail a boat in Bosham Creek and out
towards the Island. "Not a day of rain during the whole time."

"I think th