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descent quite exciting enough. From the top of the hill, one could see a wide panorama of distant trees and fields lying below one like an enchanted country, protected by range after range of hills. The long, swirling lines of the nearer hills shone clear in the evening sun, and through their gaps the far Black Mountains showed like dim blue wraiths. One descended, and shot downwards towards this enchantment, knowing all the while that one would never reach it, that as one approached, enchantment would retreat ever farther and farther away, calling one on. Trees and hedges closed in on one, shutting out the wide world.
    For sheer delight in the sense of speed and the cool, delicious air flowing past her face, Nora released her brakes, and the bicycle leapt forward like a living thing. She turned the corner, and the road went on and on downhill, varying in steepness, but always taking her down into the valley. The blood flowed warmly through her veins, the air blew cool on her skin, and her brain seemed clear as crystal. She thought happily of the month ahead of her in her old home in Penlow, before the art school opened again; a month that would be spent in sketching, calling on old friends and expeditions with Lion and Isabel to the hills and Radnor Forest. Whizzing down towards the enchanted valley, she counted her blessings and enjoyed a sense of positive, conscious happiness. It was a pity that she had allowed herself to become so fond of old Felix, since he obviously cared more for Isabel’s little finger than for a dozen Noras. But few people lived their lives without once suffering at least a faint intimation of unrequited love; and love was not the only spring of happiness in this lovely world.
    She had left her father far behind, and just beyond the second turn of the road shot past Lion, with a derisive shout. Not to be outdone by his sister, Lion released his brakes and overtook her.
    â€œHullo!” he shouted breathlessly, as they sped along side by side.
    â€œHullo!” she shouted back, and had no breath for more conversation.
    They turned another corner, past a small whitewashed cottage where a woman stood watching them with the intent, rapturous expression of one who foresees an accident, and found that the wild descent was over. The road stretched tamely ahead of them, a flat, narrow ribbon between tangled hedges of hawthorn and briar. About a hundred yards farther on, Felix sat on the grass at the side of the road with his hands clasped round his knees, watching their approach. There was no sign of Isabel.
    â€œHullo! No Isabel,” said Nora. “She probably got up enough speed to carry her all the way to Penlow without turning a pedal.”
    â€œDead in a ditch, more likely,” said Lion scornfully. “She’ll come to a bad end, that girl.”
    â€œOh come, Lion! If Isabel came to a bad end, nobody would be sorrier than you. So you needn’t pretend to be hardened and cynical.”
    â€œOh, she’s not bad,” admitted Lion grudgingly. “For a girl,” he added, hoping thereby to arouse his sister’s wrath. But she was looking along the road ahead of them with a worried expression, and did not hear.
    â€œI do really wonder where she’s got to. She said she’d sit and wait for us when her wheels refused to go round any more. And she can’t surely have gone farther than we can see without pedalling. . .”
    â€œOh, can’t she,” said Lion with a note of unwilling admiration in his voice. “She can do anything, that girl. She’s possessed of a devil. This is where I fall off.”
    He dismounted. But in her anxiety for Isabel, Nora cycled along the road to where Felix was now standing and waiting for her.
    â€œHullo, Felix! Where’s Isabel?”
    â€œI don’t know! Her bike’s a few yards farther on, the other side of that heap of stones. I walked on a bit to look for her, and came back. She must be