“I’m only sorry. I know what her sort of unhappiness is like. You’ll have to talk to her, you know, or she’ll refuse Mr. Broadstairs’ offer.”

“I say, couldn’t you?”

“Me! I’m the last person. Poor beast. You’ll have to be frightfully nice and, if absolutely necessary, you can kiss her.”

“Brute! I suppose you’ll rub my nose in that as long as I live.”

“Shouldn’t wonder.”

They had reached the copse. Donald had her in his arms. The minutes slid away, they had starved for one another, and now they were sure of each other time ceased to exist. They were dragged back to earth by a moan. Staring at them, her face greenish-white, was Gladys. She spoke on one dead note like a sleep-walker.

“I saw you go across the fields. Iris is all right. I said I shouldn’t be long. Oh, God! Donald! Oh, Donald!”

Janet came to her.

“I’m sorry. Donald and I love each other. I know just how you feel. There isn’t anything I can say.”

Gladys seemed hardly conscious Janet had spoken.

“Ever since Anna died I’ve hoped and hoped. Even before she died I was planning. She knew. She used to tease me. ‘No harm in trying,’ she used to say, ‘but you’re not his sort, you know.’ But Anna was fond of me, and I was good to her, and I have been good to Iris. I knew ever since you came it was all up. I tried not to believe it, but you can’t fool yourself, can you? I’m not Sheila believing fairy-tales. It’s a cruel world for lots of women.”

Donald spoke gently.

“There’s a good job being offered you. Mr. Broadstairs is writing to you to ask you to housekeeper the school.”

“I think you’d like it,” Janet added.

Gladys nodded.

“I dare say. One job will be the same as another now. I don’t care where I go.”

Trying desperately to help, Janet remembered the one source of comfort she knew. She took hold of Gladys’ arm.

“You come to my mother. You can have my room, and I’ll manage on the sofa. You won’t want to go back to the farm tonight.” She glanced at Donald over her shoulder. “Go on and look after Iris.” She did not add, “And I’ll be up later on,” but Donald knew what she meant.

Maggie was bursting for Janet’s return. She was longing to tell her the news, and yet shy. Still, if there was one person who would understand, it was her Jan. She busied herself after the colonel, Dick and Barbara had left, packing Sheila’s things.