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‘What is it?—Oh, Mummy, what is it?’ Clive murmured; and his face was full of fear.

‘I am foolish.—I mind things so foolishly.—It’s only that Hester has been here ———’

As she named his wife she felt that Clive’s flesh contracted, contracted and shrank from her; as though she laid hot iron on it, and as she felt him shrink from her the lava flood of her misery heaved and overflowed.

‘Hester was angry with me.—Because I kept Robin for a little. I didn’t ask him to come.—I knew better than that!—I am well trained.—He called to me and wanted to see the fountain. And Hester came for him and found him with me—and was very angry.’

Stillness was about them. His arms had slipped down from her but he held her hands—tightly—as he intently thought.

‘There must have been a misunderstanding,’ was what he said.

‘I am afraid not. No, there was no misunderstanding.’ She drew her hands from his and dried her eyes. Her tears were checked and thoughts—cold, fiery, rapid — sped through her mind, as she scrutinized her peril and the relief of truth; and under her thoughts her heart seemed sinking from her.