k," he said, "that I care too much for food."

"I don't."

"But I've got to be kept going."

"I quite understand," she answered busily. Her hands were in the flour;
a patch of it, on her pale cheek, showed that her skin had a warm, faint
colour of its own.

"We'll sit outside and watch for Zebedee," Rupert told her.

She had baked the scones, changed her dress and made the table ready
before the guest arrived. From the dining-room she heard his clear
voice, broken by Miriam's low gay one, and, looking from the window, she
saw them both at the gate. Out of sight, behind the wall, Daniel and
Rupert were talking, involved in one of their interminable discussions,
and there were sounds made by the horse as he stretched to eat the
grass. For an instant, Helen felt old and forgotten; she remembered
Notya, who was in trouble, and she herself was shrouded by her own
readiness to see misfortune; all her little preparations, the flowers on
the table, the scones before the fire, her pretty dress, were gathered
into one foolishness when she saw Zebedee pushing open the gate and
looking down at Miriam. There was a sudden new pain in Helen's heart,
and in a blinding light which dazzled her she saw that the pain was
compounded of jealousy because Miriam was beautiful, and of renunciation
because it would be impossible to keep anything which Miriam wanted.

But in the hall, these feelings, like a nightmare in their blackness,
passed away when Zebedee uttered the cheerful "Hullo!" with which he had
so often greeted her. There were comfort and safety in his
neighbourhood, in his swift, judging way of looking at people, as
though, without curiosity, he wished to assure himself of their
well-being and health, and while there was something professional in the
glance, it seemed to be a guarantee of his own honesty. His eyes, grey
with brown flecks in them, expected people to be reasonable and happy.

Helen said simply, "I am so glad you have come."

"I made him," Miriam said, and put her hand fleetingly on his arm.

"You didn't. Rupert asked him."

"Yes, but I waylaid him. He was sneaking home."

"No, no, I wasn't."

"Somewhere else, then!"

He thrust his gloves into the pocket of his coat.

"You were coming, weren't you?" Helen asked.

"Of course I was."

She smiled with her extraordinary, almost comic, radiance. "I'll go and
make the tea."

Because Daniel blundered through the doorway at that moment, Miriam
followed H