re
of wedding presents and even the little methylated spirit flame that
boiled the water looked as if it had been polished with a chamois
leather.

There was a walnut tea caddy studded with brass that had to be
unlocked, and inside were two compartments with tin-foil linings in
which the precious leaves guarded their aroma and defied larceny. Mrs.
Barraclough took two spoonfuls from one side and one from the other
that the correct blend might be achieved and these she mixed upon a
tiny square of white cartridge paper. Then the cups were warmed and
the water was put in--and some muffins and Jane, who had apple cheeks
and smiling red lips, came in the room and the business of pouring out
began, which is almost as great and almost as lost a secret as the
varnish of the violin makers of Cremona. And Isabel felt good all over
because she knew that Mrs. Barraclough, and the room, and Jane, and the
muffins, and the tea, and the evening were all the right
temperature--warm--mellow--comforting. Outside the window was a thrush
who sang. He was a soloist, and when he stayed to fill his throat a
chorus of sparrows, close packed upon the upper branches of a tilting
cedar, chirped gladly with a single voice.

And listening and tasting and feeling all the sweetness of the
countryside, the fairness of tradition, the delicacy of age and custom,
a lump came into Isabel's throat--hot, angry and convulsive. For
somewhere out beyond was her man--facing unknown dangers, taking
terrible risks, followed by relentless men.

Yet all this was his and he had left it. She was his and he had left
her--deserting both at the bidding of that frightful master who
commands us all--that ruler of men's destinies whose initials are
L.S.D. [Transcriber's note: abbreviations for Pounds, shillings,
pence.]

She put her tea cup on the tray with a little tinkle and suddenly
covered her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"Oh, oh, oh!" she cried. "Why couldn't he have been satisfied?"

"What is it, my dear?"

"Money," she answered with a staggering breath. "Money. And it
couldn't buy a moment that was as sweet as this."

The fair curly head tilted forward into the black silk lap. Mrs.
Barraclough's hands went round the girl's shoulders and held them
tight. They were shaking so.

A clergyman passing down the road halted for a moment and peered over
the yew hedge into the open windows of the room. But nobody took any
notice of him and he c