once.
I learnt ten minutes ago that my boy was going to the war. I must
either laugh or--or cry, and you wouldn't like me to do that; but it's
a way women have when their hearts are half broken."

"I don't understand you," he said helplessly.

Lady Mary looked at him as though she had awakened, frightened, to the
consciousness of her own temerity.

"I don't quite understand myself, I think," she said, in a subdued
voice. "I won't torment you any more, Timothy; I will be as calm and
collected--as you wish. Only let me go."

"Will you not listen to my reason for wishing you to remain at home?"
he said sternly. "It is an important one."

"I had forgotten," she said indifferently. "How can there be any
business in the world half so important to _me_ as seeing my boy once
more before he sails?"

The colour of Sir Timothy's ruddy face deepened almost to purple, his
grey eyes glowered sullen resentment at his wife.

"Since you desire to have your way in opposition to my wishes, _go!_"
he thundered. "I will not hinder you further."

But his sonorous wrath was too familiar to be impressive.

Lady Mary's expression scarcely changed when Sir Timothy raised his
voice. She turned, however, at the foot of the staircase, and spoke to
him again.

"Let me just go and give the order for my things to be packed,
Timothy, and tell Ash to go and find out about the trains, and I will
return and listen to whatever you wish--I will, indeed. I could not
pay proper attention to anything until I knew that was being done."

Sir Timothy did not trust himself to speak. He bowed his head, and the
slender figure passed swiftly up the stairs.

Sir Timothy walked twice deliberately up and down the empty hall, and
felt his pulse. The slow, steady throb reassured him. He opened the
door of the study.

"John," said Sir Timothy, "would you kindly come out here and speak to
me for a moment? Dr. Blundell, would you have the goodness to await me
a little longer? You will find the London papers there."

"I have them," said Dr. Blundell, from the armchair by the study fire.

John Crewys closed the door behind him, and looked rather anxiously at
his cousin. It struck him that Sir Timothy had lost some of his ruddy
colour, and that his face looked drawn and old.

But the squire placed himself with his back to the log fire, and made
an effort to speak in his voice of everyday. His slightly pompous,
patronizing manner returned upon him.

"You ar