Then, one afternoon when she was darning stockings in her bedroom, Mr. Hengist’s card was brought up to her. That drove the colour from her cheeks; she felt she could not face him, and yet that she must. She went down to the lounge and stood against the door, looking at him in unhappy defiance, at bay.

“Hullo, Elizabeth,” he said, coming forward. “You’re not looking very fit, my dear. I didn’t come to see you before as I thought you’d want to be alone.”

The defiance went out of her; gratefully she touk his hand.

“It’s so—nice of you to come,” was all she could say. “Sit down—there’s only one horrid old lady in at the moment, and she lives in the drawing-room. You’ll stay to tea, won’t you?”

“No, I want you to come out to tea with me,” he said.

She sat down opposite him, on the other side of the fireplace.

“Thank you very much. I’m—I’m afraid I’m in disgrace, though.” She smiled, rather pitifully.

“My dear child, your father’s a nice old stick, but he’s a fool.”

She gasped.

“Good gracious, Mr. Hengist!”

“You know that as well as I do,” he said. “Your aunt too. Well-meaning, which makes it worse. Where’s Stephen?”

“I think—in Spain.”

He nodded.

“Seen any of his relations?”

“Oh, no!” she shuddered. “I daren’t! I couldn’t!”

“Um! Well, you’ve made a fairly good mess of things, Elizabeth.”

“Don’t say, I told you so!” she begged. There was a catch in her voice.

“It’s the last thing in the world I should say. What I want to know is, Are you any happier now that you’ve chucked Stephen and started out on your own?”

She looked down at her wedding-ring, and twisted it in silence for a moment.

“I think—I shall be.”

“But you’re not at present?”

“Oh ...! I’m glad to be free. If Father and Aunt Anne—wouldn’t—wouldn’t make things so hard—I should he very happy, I think.”

He started to fill the inevitable pipe, but she saw the twinkle in his eye.

“All right. We’ll see. Question is, what are you going to do?”

“Do?” She looked startled.

“Yes, do. Going to live an aimless life in a hotel?”

“Oh, no, of course not! I—I’m afraid I haven’t thought about it much just yet.”

“Well, I suggest that you do think about it. You’ll soon get bored if you’ve no occupation.”

He was unexpected and cheerful; she felt that he was her best friend. He was very outspoken, of course, but how kind!

“What can I do?” she asked. “I don’t think I have any special qualifications.”

“Not one,” he agreed candidly.

“I can drive a car,” she pointed out, rather piqued.