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"Of course it's going to be finished," said Henry suddenly.

A large globe hanging from the ceiling concealed the electric light behind patterns of every conceivable colour. The guests were sitting on the floor, on a crimson sofa, and standing against the wall. Henry soon discovered that to-night's was a very representative gathering.

"No."

"That's where we used to live��in our happy married days. A dear little house we had��the house I ran away from. We had a baby too, but that died. Peter was fond of that baby, fonder than he ever was of me."

Millie went into the inner room and the two men sat stiffly opposite one another and carried on a hostile conversation.

There was a long silence. Only the doves cooing from the gay-tiled roof seemed to be the voice, crooning and satisfied of the summer afternoon.

"Well, Henry."

She was nearing the Park. There were trees, festoons above the water making dark patterns and yet darker shadows.

"Sometimes I shall be at Duncombe Hall in Wiltshire and shall want you to stay with me there at certain periods. I hope that you will not ask more questions than are absolutely necessary as I dislike being disturbed. You are of course at liberty to use any books in this library that you please, but I hope that you will always put them back in their right places. I dislike very much seeing books bent back or laid face downwards."

"I have a brother who writes," said Millie.

On the piece of paper in a childish hand was scrawled this ill-spelt message: "Please come as quikley as you can or it will be to late."