d the girl was left an orphan and penniless. My mother came
to the rescue, and Cynthia has been with us nearly two years now. She
works in the Red Cross Hospital at Tadminster, seven miles away."

As he spoke the last words, we drew up in front of the fine old house.
A lady in a stout tweed skirt, who was bending over a flower bed,
straightened herself at our approach.

"Hullo, Evie, here's our wounded hero! Mr. Hastings--Miss Howard."

Miss Howard shook hands with a hearty, almost painful, grip. I had
an impression of very blue eyes in a sunburnt face. She was a
pleasant-looking woman of about forty, with a deep voice, almost manly
in its stentorian tones, and had a large sensible square body, with feet
to match--these last encased in good thick boots. Her conversation, I
soon found, was couched in the telegraphic style.

"Weeds grow like house afire. Can't keep even with 'em. Shall press you
in. Better be careful."

"I'm sure I shall be only too delighted to make myself useful," I
responded.

"Don't say it. Never does. Wish you hadn't later."

"You're a cynic, Evie," said John, laughing. "Where's tea to-day--inside
or out?"

"Out. Too fine a day to be cooped up in the house."

"Come on then, you've done enough gardening for to-day. 'The labourer is
worthy of his hire', you know. Come and be refreshed."

"Well," said Miss Howard, drawing off her gardening gloves, "I'm
inclined to agree with you."

She led the way round the house to where tea was spread under the shade
of a large sycamore.

A figure rose from one of the basket chairs, and came a few steps to
meet us.

"My wife, Hastings," said John.

I shall never forget my first sight of Mary Cavendish. Her tall, slender
form, outlined against the bright light; the vivid sense of slumbering
fire that seemed to find expression only in those wonderful tawny eyes
of hers, remarkable eyes, different from any other woman's that I
have ever known; the intense power of stillness she possessed, which
nevertheless conveyed the impression of a wild untamed spirit in an
exquisitely civilised body--all these things are burnt into my memory. I
shall never forget them.

She greeted me with a few words of pleasant welcome in a low clear
voice, and I sank into a basket chair feeling distinctly glad that I had
accepted John's invitation. Mrs. Cavendish gave me some tea, and her
few quiet remarks heightened my first impression of her as a thoroughly
fascinating woman