She must get away--secure at least a few days' respite from the
dreadful atmosphere of disapprobation and dislike which Lady Gertrude
managed to convey.

The consciousness of it was never absent from her. Pride had upheld her
so far, but underneath the pride lay a very sore heart. To anyone as
sensitive as Nan, whose own lovableness had always hitherto evoked both
love and friendship as naturally as flowers open to the sun, it was a new
and bewildering experience to be disliked. She did not know how to meet
it. It hurt inexpressibly, and she was tired of being hurt.

She hesitated nervously outside the morning-room door, whence issued the
soft clink of china and a murmur of voices. The clock in the hall had
struck the hour five minutes ago. She was late, and she knew that the
instant she entered the room she would feel that unfriendly atmosphere
rushing to meet her like a great black wave. Finally, with an effort,
she turned the door-handle and went in.

For once Lady Gertrude refrained from comment upon her lack of
punctuality. She seemed preoccupied and, to judge from the pinched
closing of her lips, her thoughts were anything but pleasing, while Roger
was in the sullen, rather impenetrable mood which Nan had learned to
recognise as a sign of storm. He hardly spoke at all, and then only to
fling out one or two curt remarks in connection with estate matters.
Immediately breakfast was at an end he rose from the table, remarking
that he should not be in for lunch, and left the room.

Lady Gertrude looked up from her morning's letters.

"I suppose he's riding over to Berry Farm--the tenant wants some repairs
done. He ought to take a few sandwiches with him if he won't be here for
lunch."

Isobel jumped up from her seat.

"I'll see that he does," she said quickly, and went out of the room in
search of him. Any need of Roger's must be instantly supplied.

Lady Gertrude waited until the servants had cleared away the breakfast,
then she turned to Nan with a very definite air of having something to
say.

"Have you and Roger quarrelled?" she asked abruptly.

The girl started nervously. She had not expected this as a consequence
of Roger's taciturnity.

"No," she said, stumbling a little. "No, we haven't--quarrelled."

Lady Gertrude scrutinised her with keen, light-grey eyes that had the
same penetrating glance as Roger's own, and Nan felt herself colouring
under it.

"You've displeased him in some w