He straightened his back. He seemed to be going to confide in her, then he changed his mind.

“I dare say I’m prejudiced, but there are certain faults I can’t stomach, especially in a woman.” He squeezed her arm. “Good night, my dear.”

She was in two minds about running after him. A feeling she might do more harm than good stopped her. She whistled to Hoover and turned homewards.

“Janet!” she marvelled. “What fault can he have found in Janet? What a pity, for in some ways I’m positive he’s fond of her.”

Section 15

The day was chilly. Sheila came to the farm for her morning call looking like a chicken, with a yellow angora wool jersey over her linen frock. It was too cold at the window so she drew a chair up to the kitchen table.

“Thanks awfully for your note. What did the telegram say exactly?”

Gladys’ face was paler even than usual; there were black shadows under her eyes, her big mouth drooped at the corners. Her voice was listless.

“I’ve not seen it. Donald went down to see the colonel, and Barbara told him. It said he was on his way home, to be treated for that malaria.”

“Then he might be here any time?”

“Yes.”

Sheila looked at her.

“You look awful. Are you funking Saturday?”

Gladys was unwilling to confide in anyone. She was spending her time forcibly poking Sunday night’s scene into the background, and arguing with her conscience. She poured coffee and milk into two cups and added a minute quantity of sugar.

“Of course not. I’ve not been sleeping well, and then yesterday was awful, Mrs. Honeywell went to the wedding. So inconsiderate of people getting married on a Monday.”

Sheila did not trouble to answer. She could not conceive why Monday should be an inconvenient day, they were all alike to her. Instead she thought of herself.

“When he gets leave will he come straight here?”

Gladys finished her coffee and got up to get on with her cooking.

“I should think so, as he’s no office left, and as he’s been ill”

“How will he come?”

“I don’t know. Train, I suppose.”

Sheila’s face was full of calculation.

“You’ll have to find out, everything. I can’t. If it’s a train I shall go and meet him somewhere down the line, and get in the same carriage with him.” It struck her that if she wanted Gladys’ most vivid help she must take a little interest in her affairs. “Have you thought how you’re working Saturday?”

Gladys could not slide into shifty schemes with Sheila’s casualness. She could not, as Sheila did, see herself as though taking part in a film, in which any method was fair. She flushed.