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forgot her presence. A young woman whom they called Oriana, who had come, unannounced, with Mr. Gales, offered her chocolates with the greatest affability.

‘Let’s go round by the hill, Mummy,’ said Clive. ‘It’s so jolly up there; the hill is the best part of The Crofts.—You’re not too tired with all the chatter?’ Drawing her hand within his arm he bent his head to smile at her.

‘Not a bit too tired. Rather stimulating, I found it. It does one good to be made aware of all this new life.’

‘Yes; I suppose it does. There’s no harm in them,’ said Clive, still looking at her and smiling a little absently while, from the gate of The Crofts, they turned up the smooth, turfed hill where a flock of sheep raised tranquil heads to see them pass.

It was a hot August day, but the wind blew freshly and the blue distances fell below them, spreading and receding into the ample, happy view. They paused to look down at it and as they turned again to the ascent, Clive said suddenly: ‘You are pleased, aren’t you, Mummy?’

She knew then that this had been the question underlying all his gladness and that he had been longing to ask it; that it was in order to ask it that