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he and she were united against Clive and Hester. He understood and sustained her as Clive understood and sustained Hester. His massive strength upheld and quieted her. ‘You gave your child sweetmeats and the modern mother gives hers antiseptics,’ he smiled. ‘You were very naughty and self-indulgent, no doubt; but we have still to see which method produces the best results.’

Hester had now come forward. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll play with Clive,’ she said. ‘I’m not good at bridge and he understands my game.’ She spoke with perfect self-possession. In contrast to Hester’s composure Monica was aware that her own outburst appeared as undignified. She had behaved like a fool. She had put Hester in the wrong before a stranger. Clive could not feel any sympathy for her, seeing her do that. She had been a fool and her heart burned with the consciousness of folly as they sat down and shuffled and dealt.

It was true that Hester was not good at bridge. At all events she was not good to-night. She was perhaps not as composed as she pretended to be. ‘Our trick, I think,’ said Ingpen when, at the end of the first round, she put out her hand; and, drawing it back quickly, she muttered: ‘Sorry.’ But she held her head high and kept her eyes on her cards and if