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think they did you harm?’ She glanced again at her son as she placed the packs of cards.

His face had taken on the stiffened, watchful look that it broke her heart to see. And Hester said no word. Hester the aggressor was wise and crafty; she said no word in accusation or self-exculpation. She stood there smoking in her coral-red shawl.

‘I adored fairy-tales,’ said Clive, looking from her to Hester and back again. He spoke carefully and his mother felt his care as a sword in her heart. Oh, no, he would never take her part against Hester, however Hester misused her! ‘Only;—Hester thinks Robin rather unusually nervous, you see.’

‘Yes; I do see. I think there may be other reasons for his nervousness. He is never nervous when he is with me.—But I’m not dreaming of rebellion.—It would be useless to do that, I know.—Shall we cut for partners?—Will you come, Hester?—It’s a dreadful privation for a grandmother, Captain Ingpen. Fairy-tales are the only function left to a grandmother really.’

‘Everything is changed since our young days, isn’t it?’ said Ingpen. He had joined her at the table

and as she met his eyes she had a strange sense that