ous at the beginning of that meal, but both father and son
were at the pains to put her at her ease; and soon she was talking
naturally, with a colour in her cheeks, and now and then a note of
laughter in her voice. Dick worked for the recurrence of that laughter.
He liked the clear sound of it and the melting of all her face into
sweetness and tender humour which came with it. And for another thing he
had a thought, and a true one, that it was very long since she had known
the pleasure of good laughter.

They took their coffee out on the lawn under the shade of a huge
cedar-tree. The river ran at their feet and a Canadian canoe and a
rowing-boat were tethered close by in a little dock. The house, a place
of grey stone with grey weathered and lichen-coloured slates, raised its
great oblong chimneys into a pellucid air. The sunlight flashed upon its
rows of tall windows--they were all flat to the house, except the one
great bay on the ground floor in the library--and birds called from all
the trees. The time slipped away. Dick Hazlewood found himself talking of
his work, a practice into which he seldom fell, and was surprised that
she could talk of it with him. He realised with a start how it was that
she knew. But she talked naturally and openly, as though he must know her
history. Once even some jargon of the Staff College slipped from her.
"You were doing let us pretend at Box Hill last week, weren't you?" she
said, and when he started at the phrase she imagined that he started at
the extent of her information. "It was in the papers," she said. "I read
every word of them," and then for a second her face clouded, and she
added: "I have time, you see."

She looked at her watch and sprang to her feet.

"I must go," she said. "I didn't know it was so late. I have enjoyed
myself very much." She did not hesitate now to offer her hand. "Goodbye."

Dick Hazlewood went with her as far as the gate and came back to
his father.

"You were asking me," he said carelessly, "if I could give you some part
of the summer. I don't see why I shouldn't come here in a day or two. The
polo matches aren't so important."

The old man's eyes brightened.

"I shall be delighted, Richard, if you will." He looked at his son with
something really ecstatic in his expression. At last then his better
nature was awakening. "I really believe--" he exclaimed and Dick cut
him short.

"Yes, it may be that, sir. On the other hand it may not. What is