's a dilemma."

"When I think of my own case," said Denis, making a more decided move in
the desired direction, "I am amazed how ignorant I am of other people's
mentality in general, and above all and in particular, of their opinions
about myself. Our minds are sealed books only occasionally opened to
the outside world." He made a gesture that was faintly suggestive of the
drawing off of a rubber band.

"It's an awful problem," said Mary thoughtfully. "One has to have had
personal experience to realise quite how awful it is."

"Exactly." Denis nodded. "One has to have had first-hand experience." He
leaned towards her and slightly lowered his voice. "This very morning,
for example..." he began, but his confidences were cut short. The deep
voice of the gong, tempered by distance to a pleasant booming, floated
down from the house. It was lunch-time. Mechanically Mary rose to her
feet, and Denis, a little hurt that she should exhibit such a desperate
anxiety for her food and so slight an interest in his spiritual
experiences, followed her. They made their way up to the house without
speaking.

CHAPTER XXV.

"I hope you all realise," said Henry Wimbush during dinner, "that next
Monday is Bank Holiday, and that you will all be expected to help in the
Fair."

"Heavens!" cried Anne. "The Fair--I had forgotten all about it. What a
nightmare! Couldn't you put a stop to it, Uncle Henry?"

Mr. Wimbush sighed and shook his head. "Alas," he said, "I fear I
cannot. I should have liked to put an end to it years ago; but the
claims of Charity are strong."

"It's not charity we want," Anne murmured rebelliously; "it's justice."

"Besides," Mr. Wimbush went on, "the Fair has become an institution. Let
me see, it must be twenty-two years since we started it. It was a modest
affair then. Now..." he made a sweeping movement with his hand and was
silent.

It spoke highly for Mr. Wimbush's public spirit that he still continued
to tolerate the Fair. Beginning as a sort of glorified church
bazaar, Crome's yearly Charity Fair had grown into a noisy thing of
merry-go-rounds, cocoanut shies, and miscellaneous side shows--a real
genuine fair on the grand scale. It was the local St. Bartholomew, and
the people of all the neighbouring villages, with even a contingent from
the county town, flocked into the park for their Bank Holiday amusement.
The local hospital profited handsomely, and it was this fact alone which
prevented Mr. Wimbu