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he was to decorate Clive’s dining-room and that to the end of her days she must see, at every meal she partook of at The Crofts, visageless, vast-thighed forms bearing grisly fruits and flowers on their heads. ‘That will be delightful,’ she murmured.

‘It will be nice for Celia, too, our coming, won’t it?’ said Hester.

The tea-table was now placed before Monica and she still kept Robin on her lap, saying to him as she warmed the tea-pot: ‘Will you measure in the tea for me, Robin?’ Robin, she knew, had been on the verge of tears but was now master of himself.

‘Clive can take her and Miss what’s-her-name out in the car for drives,’ Hester went on. ‘There’s no risk of infection now for Robin, is there?’

‘Not the least.’ Monica heard that she spoke dryly. ‘Her lung healed before she left Switzerland.—Clive mustn’t have her on his mind. Norah Unwin has an uncle coming to stay who has a car. He is looking for a place here, too.’

‘Oh, well; in that case Clive can certainly have her much less on his mind. He was very much upset by her breakdown. He’s so fond of her, you know. Lucky we got The Crofts in time if there’s a competitor in the field.’