who was not responsible for Mrs. Hannay, seemed, if
anything, more terrified than Mrs. Hannay, who was responsible for her.

Mrs. Dick Ransome did not, at the first blush, inspire confidence. She
was a woman with a great deal of blonde hair, and a fresh-coloured,
conspicuously unspiritual face; coarse-grained, thick-necked, ruminantly
animal, but kind; kind to Mrs. Hannay, kind to Anne, kinder even than
Mrs. Hannay who was responsible for all the kindness.

Charlie Gorst hurried away to get Mrs. Majendie some tea, and Lawson's
Hannay's large form moved into the gap thus made, blocking Anne's view of
the room. He stood looking down upon her with an extraordinary smile of
mingled apology and protection. Gorst's return was followed by Majendie,
wandering uneasily with his plate. He smiled at Anne, too; and his smile
conveyed the same suggestion of desperation and distress. It was as if he
said to her: "I'm sorry for letting you in for such a crew, but how can
I help it?" She smiled back at him brightly, as much as to say; "Don't
mind. It amuses me. I'm taking it all in."

He wandered away, and Anne felt that the women exchanged looks across her
shoulders.

"I think I'll be going, Pussy dear," said Mrs. Ransome, nodding some
secret intelligence. She elbowed her way gently across the room, and came
back again, shaking her head hopelessly and helplessly. "She says I can
go if I like, but she'll stay," said Mrs. Ransome under her breath.

"Oh-h-h," said Mrs. Hannay under hers.

"What am I to do?" said Mrs. Ransome, flurried into audible speech.

"Stay--stay. It's much better." Mrs. Hannay plucked her husband by the
sleeve, and he lowered an attentive ear. Mrs. Ransome covered the
confidence with a high-pitched babble.

"You find Scale a very sociable place, don't you, Mrs. Majendie?" said
Mrs. Ransome.

"Go," said Mrs. Hannay, "and take her off into the conservatory, or
somewhere."

"More sociable in the winter-time, of course." (Mrs. Ransome, in her
agitation, almost screamed it.)

"I can't take her off anywhere, if she won't go," said Mr. Hannay in a
thick but penetrating whisper. He collapsed into a chair in front of
Anne, where he seemed to spread himself, sheltering her with his supine,
benignant gaze.

Mrs. Hannay was beside herself, beholding his invertebrate behaviour.
"Don't sit down, stupid. Do something--anything."

He went to do it, but evidently, whatever it was, he had no heart for it.

A maid c