‘Well,’ Mark said, ‘it’s no good attempting a diagnosis before we’ve heard the history. I’ll go home, see what’s happened and ring you up in about fifteen minutes. The all-important, utterly bewildering and heaven-sent joy is that you love me, Rose. Nothing,’ Mark continued with an air of coining a brand-new phrase, ‘nothing can alter that. Au revoir, darling.’

He kissed Rose in a business-like manner and was gone.

She sat still for a time hugging to herself the knowledge of their feeling for each other. What had happened to all her scruples about leaving her father? She didn’t even feel properly upset by her father’s extraordinary behaviour and when she realized this circumstance she realized the extent of her enthralment. She stood in the french window of the drawing-room and looked across the valley to Nunspardon. It was impossible to be anxious … her whole being ached with happiness. It was now and for the first time, that Rose understood the completeness of love.

Time went by without her taking thought for it. The gong sounded for dinner and at the same moment the telephone rang. She flew to it.

‘Rose,’ Mark said. ‘Say at once that you love me. At once.’

‘I love you.’

‘And on your most sacred word of honour that you’ll marry me. Say it, Rose. Promise it. Solemnly promise.’

‘I solemnly promise.’

‘Good,’ said Mark. ‘I’ll come back at nine.’

‘Do you know what’s wrong?’

‘Yes. It’s damn’ ticklish. Bless you, darling. Till nine.’

‘Till nine,’ Rose said, and in a state of enthralment went in to dinner.

II

By eight o’clock the evening depression had begun to settle over Commander Syce. At about five o’clock when the sun was over the yard arm he had a brandy and soda. This raised his spirits. With its successors, up to the third or fourth, they rose still farther. During this period he saw himself taking a job and making a howling success of it. From that emotional eminence he fell away with each succeeding dram and it was during his decline that he usually took to archery. It had been in such a state of almost suicidal depression that he had suddenly shot an arrow over his coppice into Mr Danberry-Phinn’s bottom meadow and slain the mother of Thomasina Twitchett.

Tonight the onset of depression was more than usually severe. Perhaps his encounter with the Colonel, whom he liked, gave point to his own loneliness. Moreover, his married couple were on their annual holiday and he had not been bothered to do anything about an evening meal. He found his arrow and limped back to the archery lawn. He no longer wanted to shoot. His gammy leg ached but he thought he’d take a turn up the drive.