d me across the threshold. And presently I had deposited her
and self on one of the rustic benches in the garden, and was ready to
snap into the business of the evening.

I considered it best, however, before doing so, to ease things along with
a little informal chitchat. You don't want to rush a delicate job like
the one I had in hand. And so for a while we spoke of neutral topics. She
said that what had kept her so long at the Stretchley-Budds was that
Hilda Stretchley-Budd had made her stop on and help with the arrangements
for their servants' ball tomorrow night, a task which she couldn't very
well decline, as all the Brinkley Court domestic staff were to be
present. I said that a jolly night's revelry might be just what was
needed to cheer Anatole up and take his mind off things. To which she
replied that Anatole wasn't going. On being urged to do so by Aunt
Dahlia, she said, he had merely shaken his head sadly and gone on talking
of returning to Provence, where he was appreciated.

It was after the sombre silence induced by this statement that Angela
said the grass was wet and she thought she would go in.

This, of course, was entirely foreign to my policy.

"No, don't do that. I haven't had a chance to talk to you since you
arrived."

"I shall ruin my shoes."

"Put your feet up on my lap."

"All right. And you can tickle my ankles."

"Quite."

Matters were accordingly arranged on these lines, and for some minutes we
continued chatting in desultory fashion. Then the conversation petered
out. I made a few observations _in re_ the scenic effects, featuring the
twilight hush, the peeping stars, and the soft glimmer of the waters of
the lake, and she said yes. Something rustled in the bushes in front of
us, and I advanced the theory that it was possibly a weasel, and she said
it might be. But it was plain that the girl was distraite, and I
considered it best to waste no more time.

"Well, old thing," I said, "I've heard all about your little dust-up So
those wedding bells are not going to ring out, what?"

"No."

"Definitely over, is it?"

"Yes."

"Well, if you want my opinion, I think that's a bit of goose for you,
Angela, old girl. I think you're extremely well out of it. It's a mystery
to me how you stood this Glossop so long. Take him for all in all, he
ranks very low down among the wines and spirits. A washout, I should
describe him as. A frightful oik, and a mass of side to boot. I'd pity
the