er or two
unknown to Jon, and walked out up the lane, which smelled of dust and
honeysuckle.

For Jon--sure of her now, and without separation before him--it was a
miraculous dawdle, more wonderful than those on the Downs, or along the
river Thames. It was love-in-a-mist--one of those illumined pages of
Life, where every word and smile, and every light touch they gave each
other were as little gold and red and blue butterflies and flowers and
birds scrolled in among the text--a happy communing, without
afterthought, which lasted twenty-seven minutes. They reached the
coppice at the milking-hour. Jon would not take her as far as the
farmyard; only to where she could see the field leading up to the
gardens, and the house beyond. They turned in among the larches, and
suddenly, at the winding of the path, came on Irene, sitting on an old
log seat.

There are various kinds of shocks: to the vertebrae; to the nerves; to
moral sensibility; and, more potent and permanent, to personal dignity.
This last was the shock Jon received, coming thus on his mother. He
became suddenly conscious that he was doing an indelicate thing. To
have brought Fleur down openly--yes! But to sneak her in like this!
Consumed with shame, he put on a front as brazen as his nature would
permit.

Fleur was smiling a little defiantly; his mother's startled face was
changing quickly to the impersonal and gracious. It was she who uttered
the first words:

"I'm very glad to see you. It was nice of Jon to think of bringing you
down to us."

"We weren't coming to the house," Jon blurted out. "I just wanted Fleur
to see where I lived."

His mother said quietly: "Won't you come up and have tea?"

Feeling that he had but aggravated his breach of breeding, he heard
Fleur answer: "Thanks very much; I have to get back to dinner. I met
Jon by accident, and we thought it would be rather jolly just to see
his home."

How self-possessed she was!

"Of course; but you MUST have tea. We'll send you down to the station.
My husband will enjoy seeing you."

The expression of his mother's eyes, resting on him for a moment, cast
Jon down level with the ground--a true worm. Then she led on, and Fleur
followed her. He felt like a child, trailing after those two, who were
talking so easily about Spain and Wansdon, and the house up there
beyond the trees and the grassy slope. He watched the fencing of their
eyes, taking each other in--the two beings he loved most in t