Powell checked in at the Visitors Office, found Barbara D’Courtney’s location and started across the grounds. He was weak, but he wanted to leap hedges, vault gates, run races. He had awakened after seven days’ exhaustion with a question — one question to ask Barbara. He felt exhilarated.

They saw one another at the same moment. Across a broad stretch of lawn flanked by field-stone terraces and brilliant gardens. She flew toward him, waving, and he ran toward her. Then as they approached, both were stricken with shyness. They stopped a few feet apart, not daring to look at each other.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Barbara.”

“I… Let’s get into the shade, shall we?”

They turned toward the terrace wall. Powell glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was alive again… alive as he had never seen her before. And her urchin expression — the expression that he had imagined was a phase of her Déjà Èprouvé development was still there. She looked inexpressively mischievous, high-spirited, fascinating. But she was adult. He did not know her.

“I’m being discharged this evening,” Barbara said.

“I know.”

“I’m terribly grateful to you for all you’ve—”

“Please don’t say that.”

“For all you’ve done,” Barbara continued firmly. They sat down on a stone bench. She looked at him with grave eyes. “I want to tell you how grateful I am.”

“Please, Barbara. You’re terrifying me.”

“Am I?”

“I knew you so intimately as… well, as a child. Now…”

“Now I’m grown up again.”

“Yes.”

“You must get to know me better.” She smiled graciously. “Shall we say… Tea tomorrow at five?”

“At five…”

“Informal. Don’t dress.”

“Listen,” Powell said desperately. “I helped dress you more than once. And comb your hair. And brush your teeth.”

She waved her hand airily.

“Your table manners were a caution. You liked fish but you hated lamb. You hit me in the eye with a chop.”

“That was ages ago, Mr. Powell.”

“That was two weeks ago, Miss D’Courtney.”

She arose with magnificent poise. “Really Mr. Powell. I feel it would be best to end the interview. If you feel impelled to cast chronographical aspersions…” She stopped and looked at him. The urchin appeared again in her face. “Chronographical?” she inquired.

He dropped the parcel and caught her in his arms.

“Mr. Powell, Mr. Powell, Mr. Powell…” she murmured. “Hello, Mr. Powell…”

“My God, Barbara… Baba, dear. For a moment I thought you meant it.”

“I was paying you back for being grown up.”

“You always were a revengeful kid.”

“You always were a mean daddy.” She leaned back and looked at him. “What are you really like? What are we both like? Will we have time to find out?”

“Time?”

“Before… Peep me. I can’t say it.”

“No, dear. You’ll have to say it.”

“Mary Noyes told me. Everything.”

“Oh. She did?”

Barbara nodded. “But I don’t care. I don’t care. She was right. I’ll settle for anything. Even if you can’t marry me…”

He laughed. The exhilaration bubbled out of him. “You won’t have to settle for anything,” he said. “Sit down. I want to ask you one question.”