a natural aptitude. It did not seem so
remarkable to him, perhaps, as it might to others, that--half Dartie as
he was--he should have been perfectly faithful to his young first
cousin during the twenty years since he married her romantically out in
the Boer War; and faithful without any feeling of sacrifice or
boredom--she was so quick, so slyly always a little in front of his
mood. Being first cousins they had decided, or rather Holly had, to
have no children; and, though a little sallower, she had kept her
looks, her slimness, and the colour of her dark hair. Val particularly
admired the life of her own she carried on, besides carrying on his,
and riding better every year. She kept up her music, she read an awful
lot--novels, poetry, all sorts of stuff. Out on their farm in Cape
Colony she had looked after all the "nigger" babies and women in a
miraculous manner. She was, in fact,--clever; yet made no fuss about
it, and had no "side." Though not remarkable for humility, Val had come
to have the feeling that she was his superior, and he did not grudge
it--a great tribute. It might be noted that he never looked at Holly
without her knowing of it, but that she looked at him sometimes
unawares.

He has kissed her in the porch because he should not be doing so on the
platform, though she was going to the station with him, to drive the
car back. Tanned and wrinkled by Colonial weather and the wiles
inseparable from horses, and handicapped by the leg which, weakened in
the Boer War, had probably saved his life in the war just past, Val was
still much as he had been in the days of his courtship; his smile as
wide and charming, his eyelashes, if anything, thicker and darker, his
eyes screwed up under them, as bright a grey, his freckles rather
deeper, his hair a little grizzled at the sides. He gave the impression
of one who has lived actively WITH HORSES in a sunny climate.

Twisting the car sharp round at the gate, he said:

"When is young Jon coming?"

"To-day."

"Is there anything you want for him? I could bring it down on Saturday."

"No; but you might come by the same train as Fleur--one forty."

Val gave the Ford full rein; he still drove like a man in a new country
on bad roads, who refuses to compromise, and expects heaven at every
hole.

"That's a young woman who knows her way about," he said. "I say, has it
struck you?"

"Yes," said Holly.

"Uncle Soames and your dad--bit awkward, isn't it?"

"She won