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didn’t utterly enrage you.’ She gazed for a moment at these visions with a bitter heart and then, looking round, saw that Captain Ingpen was gazing at her. But, whatever his ambiguities the other day, there was to-night no failure in his understanding. He did not conceal from her that he saw and pondered on her plight; but he made no comment on it, only saying, kindly and gravely, as he looked about him—rather as Robin had done: ‘I like this room. I like it much better than mine.’

‘Well; —it’s a growth; it’s all my life.’

‘Yes. I know. That’s just it.—I like your life,’ he said, moving to the door, and bending his head to a picture here, a book there, as he went:—it reminded her again of something feline; but endearingly feline; the kindly interest a cat may take in a new environment. ‘How peaceful you’ve been,’ he said.

‘Well; I don’t know about that.’ Monica went beside him. ‘I haven’t had an easy life in some ways. 1 worked very hard for a great many years, and had anxieties.’

‘Yes. I know. Norah told me. All the same you’ve been peaceful.’ They were in the hall now, and again he paused, to look at a row of engravings that hung there:— French cathedrals; Amiens,