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‘I hear my young people,’ she said.

He did not follow her to the upper room. He paused to glance at the books on a shelf and the goldfish in their bowl.

‘Well, darling.’ Clive had come in first and taking each other’s hands they kissed each other.

‘Well, Mummy,’ he returned, and he held her off

and surveyed her. ‘How lovely!’

‘You remember this dress?’

‘Rather! It’s my favourite.—Hester has a lovely dress to-night, too; put on for the first time, specially for you.—Lovely!’ he repeated looking her up and down. And gently lifting her hands, so that the long, black, transparent sleeves slid back, he said: ‘The arms of Helen as well as the tresses, Mummy.’

‘Don’t be absurd, Clive!’ Captain Ingpen was behind them. She had heard his step and Clive, startled, evidently saw him over her shoulder.

‘This is my son, Captain Ingpen. Clive, this is Norah Unwin’s uncle.—Where is Hester?’

‘She’s just coming.’

Captain Ingpen, though not taller than Clive, seemed to tower above him in bulk and darkness and maturity. He bent his head to him rather as he had bent it to Charlie’s water-colours. ‘I’m afraid