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hands out of his and said indignantly,
    “Of course not! It wasn’t that at all!”
    “Then what was it? Tell me, honey-sweet.”
    “Don’t be so silly!”
    He said in a melting voice, “But you are honey-sweet — when you like, and when you are happy. That’s why I can’t bear to see you unhappy.”
    “Rafe!”
    “Didn’t you know? I must be an awfully good concealment-practiser. It shows what brains will do when really used. Do you know, Alicia thinks I don’t like you — she said so just now. That shows how terribly well I’ve practised to deceive, doesn’t it?”
    He had startled her into a laugh which was partly caught breath.
    “You really do talk more nonsense than anyone I’ve ever met.”
    “That’s why I’m such a safe confidant. Even if I repeat everything you are going to tell me, nobody will believe a word I say. They’ll only think I’ve made it up.”
    “But I’m not going to tell you anything.” said Lisle. “There’s nothing to tell.”
    He smiled.
    “I shall have to ask Dale — and I’d so much rather you told me yourself.”
    “Rafe —you couldn’t!”
    “Oh, couldn’t I, honey-sweet? You just watch me!”
    “Rafe — you really can’t! Look here, it wasn’t anything. But you can’t ask Dale, because — it was about Lydia.”
    He whistled softly.
    “Oh, my hat! Has that cropped up again?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Nothing.” His tone mocked her.
    Lisle leaned forward, her hair lit by the sun, her hands on the coping, taking her weight.
    “Rafe, I want you to tell me about Lydia. Nobody will. I can’t ask Dale. Will you tell me?”
    He laughed. The sound floated away on the wind.
    “Why not, my dear? She wasn’t a very interesting person, and she didn’t live very long, so there isn’t a great deal to tell.”
    “You knew her?”
    “Of course I knew her. Being an interesting orphan, I was brought up here with Dale. We both knew Lydia. Her father made a lot of money out of pots and pans of the humbler sort, but her mother’s sister was married to the man who had Tallingford before old Mossbags, so Lydia and her mamma used to visit, and both families had the bright idea of marrying her to Dale. He was twenty, but very well grown for his age, and she was twenty-five. He would have Tanfield, and she would have pots of money. The relations fairly cooed.”
    Chapter 7
    WHY did he marry her?”
    She hadn’t meant to ask him that, but it was what she had always wanted to know. There was a portrait of Lydia in the long gallery, the last and least of all the portraits there. A dull, pale girl in a dull, pale dress. Why had Dale married her — Dale? She looked earnestly at Rafe.
    He said in a lively voice, “Oh, didn’t you know? She got him on the rebound. Alicia had just thrown him over and married Rowland Steyne.”
    Lisle tingled from head to foot. No — she hadn’t known. She sat up straight, her hands numb and cold from the stone coping.
    He laughed.
    “So you didn’t know? What a chump Dale is! Now when I get married, which God forbid, I shall spend my honeymoon recounting all my previous love affairs down to the last detail. You see the idea? I shall enjoy myself, because after all everyone does like talking about himself, and the wretched girl will be so bored that she’ll never want to hear about them again. Brilliant — isn’t it? Of course Dale’s list would be a longer one than mine, because for one thing he has two years’ start of me — and then women always have fallen for him. Odd, isn’t it, when I’m so much more attractive? And Dale doesn’t even notice they’re doing it half the time. Did he ever tell you about the Australian widow who threw a water-jug at his head?… No? Well, perhaps not. It’s rather a rude story.”
    Lisle had herself in hand again. She said,
    “Don’t be silly.”
    “Honey-sweet, she wasn’t my widow. Far from me be it — a terrific female.” He rolled about fifteen r’s.
    She took no