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already met and laid their plans. It would be part of their plan that Clive should often take Celia out for drives; with Robin.

Mr. Fellows, the rector—a devout, submissive man who had lost three sons in the war—was passing the tea and as Lady Tyler hastily quaffed her cup and rose, saying she must fly to her meeting, Monica saw Clive’s face appear in the doorway, Clive’s radiant face. She remembered, as she met his eager eyes, that they had parted in love and trust only yesterday and with painful effort her mind constructed the full meaning of his radiance. He had sent Hester to her with her apology. He believed that it had been understood and accepted, reconcilingly. He expected to find Hester with her now and as his smile, sharp and shining, found and rested on her, her eyes dropped before it.

‘You’re late, Clive,’ said Celia, ‘and so is Captain Ingpen.—Is Hester with you?’

She had joined him and already his smile was stiffened to the cold attentiveness.

‘She was coming with Mummy,’ he said. ‘No tea, thanks; I had some in the city before starting.—Is she following you, Mummy?—You have seen Hester?’

‘Yes; I’ve seen her.’ They were standing there