t. But--here was the
trouble of it--it seemed to her, when reconstructed and made into one,
to keep excellent time, to be thoroughly dependable. Yet, since all its
pieces were wrong, she would not accept the whole, and, tossing it
overboard, so to speak, settled down for a spell of demon-dispersing
exercise. It was still only a little after seven. She had two clear
hours to get rid of her blues--for they already had become substantial
enough to take this depressing colour--before breakfast.

She had returned, it must be confessed, in far more equable spirits;
physical exercise had disposed her to a broader and more out-of-door
attitude, while her determined effort not to be suspicious and
maliciously constructive had done more.

Of all people in the world Aunt Jeannie was the least mean or
ignoble-minded, and Daisy told herself that she had been measuring her
actions by a standard so crooked that it would not lie straight along
them. There should be no more such attempts, and no more looking from
the dark into windows to see unseen what people were doing inside.
Flushed and exhilarated by her row, Daisy's cheeks burnt a shade
brighter that moment at the thought that it was indeed she who had
done that.

It was still half an hour to breakfast-time when she got back to the
boat-house, but already the heat of the day was begun, and the smell of
the damp coolness of the night dried up. She strolled along the outside
of the thick hedge that faced the river, and then, turning the corner,
saw in front of her, not twenty yards distant, two figures standing
alone together. The woman's two hands clasped those of the man, holding
them against her breast. She was speaking softly and eagerly, smiling
into his face.

Quick as a lizard, Daisy popped back behind the hedge before either
seemed to have seen her, and went swiftly to the house. But this was
more inexplicable yet--for the two figures she had seen were those of
Aunt Jeannie and Victor Braithwaite. There was no questioning the
intimacy of their attitude. Yet here again she had seen something she
had not been meant to see; she would be a lamentable creature if she let
her mind dwell on it, or try to construct its meaning and significance.
It was not for her. But if the man's figure had been Lord Lindfield's
she would have been less surprised.

She had earned an inactive morning by her expedition before breakfast,
and announced her set determination to go no further than