'clock before going up to London. She simply stated the fact that
she was going up. Norah had said she might stay in our house and she
hoped I wouldn't mind.

When I suggested that it would surely be nicer for us all to go up
together on Monday she looked at me with a certain long-suffering
expression that she had for me at times, and said that wouldn't suit her,
since she had got to go to-day. She was of course awfully sorry to leave
us, but Norah understood, and Jimmy would look after us very well.

No. She wasn't going up by Midhurst. She was going by Selham.

She rose. I noticed the impatient energy of her little hands as they
knotted her veil under her chin. I looked up her trains and found that
there was none from Selham till four forty-five. I pointed out to her
that there was no hurry; she had missed the two fifty-five, which had
left Selham fifteen minutes ago, and she had an hour to spare even if the
car took half an hour getting to the station. (The day was fine and there
was no dust. Even Jimmy couldn't have objected to her taking the car.)

But she said she hadn't missed the two fifty-five; she wasn't trying for
it; and she wasn't going in the car; it would be wanted to meet Jimmy at
Midhurst Station; and no--no--_no_--she didn't want a cab from Midhurst.
She was going to walk.

I said it was absurd for her to walk four miles on a hot day like this,
and she replied that the day would be cool enough if only I'd keep quiet.
(She was still long-suffering.)

Then of course I said I'd walk with her.

But that was too much for her, and she stamped her foot and said I'd do
nothing of the kind. She didn't want anybody to walk with her.

And when I inquired about her luggage--But I can't repeat what she said
about her luggage!

Then she softened suddenly, as her way was, and kissed Norah, and said I
was a dear, and she was sorry for snapping my head off, but it was all
right. Norah knew all about it. She'd explain.

I can see her standing in the postern doorway and saying these things and
then giving me her hand and holding mine tight, while she shook her head
at me and smiled that little baffling smile that seemed to come up
flickering from her depths of wisdom on purpose to put me in the wrong.

"The trouble with you, Furny," she said, "is that you're much too good."

She went; and we saw her tall, lithe figure swinging up the lane, past
the courtyard and the paddock and the moor.

Then Norah plucked