harp knock on the toy knocker of her front door.
Enid started up, her face full of eagerness and pleasure; something
seemed to tell her that it was--it must be--Radmore!

While the maid was going to the door, her mind worked quickly. Surely it
was very late for a call? He must have been wishing to see her as soon as
he possibly could, or he would never have managed to get away from Old
Place, and its many tiresome inmates. There came a mischievous smile over
her face. Of one of those inmates, the rather priggish Jack Tosswill, she
had made a real conquest. Under some flimsy excuse he had come every day,
always staying for a considerable time. This very morning he had not gone
till she had told him frankly that she only had lunch enough for one!

The door opened slowly, and her smile died away, giving place to a
touching, pathetic expression. And then, instead of the tall, dark
man she expected to see walk in, there advanced towards her a small,
freckled-faced, fair-haired little boy--Timmy Tosswill, the child whom
she was already beginning to regard with something akin to real distaste.

But Enid Crofton was never unpleasant in manner to anybody, and she even
forced herself to smile, as she exclaimed:--"I was not expecting a
visitor so late, but I'm very pleased to see you all the same, Master
Timmy! How wonderful that you should have been able to reach my knocker.
It's placed so very high up on the door--I think I must get it altered."

"I didn't knock," said Timmy shortly, "it was my godfather who knocked,
Mrs. Crofton."

And when Radmore followed his godson into the room he was surprised, even
a little touched, at the warmth of Mrs. Crofton's greeting.

She put out both her hands, "I _am_ glad to see you"--and then she added,
characteristically, for truth was not in her, "I was afraid you wouldn't
have time to look me up for ever so long!"

But though Radmore was pleased by her evident joy in seeing him, he
looked at her with a curiously critical eye. He was surprised to find her
in a white frock--inclined, even, to be just a little bit shocked.

And there was something else. Enid Crofton had enjoyed the War--she had
admitted this just a little shamefacedly a week ago, when they two were
having dinner together at the Savoy Grill, where she had been easily the
prettiest woman in the room. At the time he had felt indulgently that it
was a good thing that someone should have gone through that awful time
untouched