glish farm-house.
Instead of the plush suite, the glass bell shades, the round centre table,
and all the other stuffy misconceptions so firmly established by the
civilisation of the nineteenth century, I discovered the authentic marks
of the old English aesthetic--whitewashed walls and black oak. And the
dresser, the settles, the oblong table, the rush-bottomed chairs, the big
chest by the side wall, all looked sturdily genuine; venerably conscious
of the boast that they had defied the greedy collector and would continue
to elude his most insidious approaches. Here, they were in their proper
surroundings. They gave the effect of having carelessly lounged in and
settled themselves; they were like the steady group of "regulars" in the
parlour of their familiar inn.

I came out of my reflection on the furniture to find that Jervaise was
going, at last. He was smiling and effusive, talking quickly about
nothing, apologising again for the unseemliness of our visit. Anne was
pathetically complacent, accepting and discounting his excuses, and
professing her willingness to help in any way she possibly could. "But I
really and truly expect you'll find Brenda safe at home when you get
back," she said, and I felt that she honestly believed that.

"I hope so; I hope so," Jervaise responded, and then they most
unnecessarily shook hands.

I thought that it was time to assert myself above the clatter of their
farewells.

"We might add, Miss Banks," I put in, "that we've been making a perfectly
absurd fuss about nothing at all. But, no doubt, you're used to that."

She looked at me, then, for the first time since I had come into the
house; and I saw the impulse to some tart response flicker in her face and
die away unexpressed. We stood and stared at one another for a long
half-second or so; and when she looked away I fancied that there was
something like fear in her evasion. It seemed to me that I saw the true
spirit of her in the way her glance refused me as some one with whom she
did not care to sport. Her voice, too, dropped, so that I could not catch
the murmur of her reply.

We had, indeed, recognised each other in that brief meeting of our eyes.
Some kind of challenge had passed between us. I had dared her to drop that
disguise of trickery and show herself as she was; and her response had
been an admission that she acknowledged not me, but my recognition of her.

How far the fact that I had truly appraised her real worth