elt it.

She got into the brougham--it was so characteristic of St. John not to
use a motor in the country--which had that delightful, almost forgotten,
smell of broughams, and drove through an avenue of oaks up to the fine
old Georgian house, dignified and mellow and lived in--a house proud of
its cellar and its stables--of its linen and its silver--a house where
men were men and women were women--where the master hunted and sat on
the Bench, and the mistress embroidered and looked after the
household--each having his separate functions and the one joint one of
propagating the race.

In the hall, St. John's housekeeper, in a black taffetas apron,
welcomed her.

"His Lordship would be most distressed not to have been there when her
ladyship arrived, but the cattle show----"

"Of course," said Ariadne, and hinted at a quite special awareness of
the importance of Cattle Shows.

Her bedroom was immense--there were lavender bags in all the drawers,
and flowers on the dressing table, the fire was lit and there was
boiling water in the shiny pale brass can. Her maid, the housekeeper
explained, was sleeping in the dressing room. On the table by her bed
was a glass box of biscuits, "The Wrong Box," "Omar Khayyam" and Lucas
Malet's last novel.

Ariadne was smiling with happiness. Talk about the joys of the
unexpected, can they compare with the joys of the expected, of finding
everything delightfully and completely what you knew it was going to be?
There was a tap at the door.

"Come in."

"It's I." (St. John never said "It's me.")

She threw open the door.

"Do come in," she said, and then, with a little stab of extra pleasure,
she wondered if he would be shocked by her flimsy pink dressing gown and
her bare feet.

"St. John," she put out both her hands. "I _am_ happy to be here."

He took them and held them quite tight, then he kissed them.

"Little Ariadne," he said.

It was, she supposed, a way of getting over the dressing gown.

"You look younger than ever," he said.

"It's my hair being down," she murmured.

He asked her if she had had a good journey, and whether the housekeeper
had seen that she had everything she wanted.

She asked him if the cattle show had been a success.

He said he really must dress for dinner, and so must she.

"Ariadne," he put his hand on her arm, "it's good to have you here."

There was an emotion welling up in his voice that surprised her. He
turned his back and left t