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the woman who helped her in the house had remembered to carry out the minute instructions she had left for the care of the infant, or whether Rose-Veronica might not have been left to scream unheard in her pram. Her husband knew it too, and, catching her eye, smiled, at once comfortingly and teasingly. He was a handsome, dark man, some few years her senior. He had the ready laughter that often accompanies a quick temper, a pair of warm brown eyes, and a lower lip that supported the upper in a way that gave a good deal of resolution to his face. He and Delia were recognised as a devoted couple. His attitude towards her was protective; she, without seeming to be mentally dependent upon him, was so passionately absorbed in him that she could never give all her attention of anyone else if he were present.

    Mrs Haswell, who had seen her glance at her watch, gave her hand a pat, and said, smiling: 'Now, I'm not going to have you worrying over your baby, my dear! Mrs Murton will look after her perfectly well.'

    Delia flushed, and gave an uncertain laugh. 'I'm sorry! I didn't mean -- I was only wondering.'

    Abigail Dearham, a very pretty girl, with a mop of chestnut curls, and wide-open gray eyes, looked at her with the interest she accorded to everyone who came in her way. 'Have you got a baby?' she asked.

    'Yes, a little girl. But I really wasn't worrying about her. That is to say-'

    'Do you look after her yourself ? Is it an awful sweat?'

    'Oh, no! Of course, it does tie one, but I love doing it.'

    'You ought to get out more, dear,' said Mrs Haswell.

    'I expect it's fun, having a baby,' said Abby, giving the matter her serious consideration. 'I shouldn't like to be tied down, though.'

    'Yes, you would. You don't mind being tied down by your own Inky,' said Charles.

    'That's different. I have set hours with him.'

    'Not much you don't!' said Charles rudely. 'You're always being kept on after hours because he's in the middle of a chapter, or wants you to manage one of his beastly parties!'

    His mother, not betraying the fact that she had received sudden enlightenment, said in an easy tone: 'Abby is Geoffrey Silloth's secretary, Delia. So interesting!'

    'No, by Jove, are you really?' said Kenelm. 'What's he like?'

    'Oh, quite a toot!' replied Abby cheerfully. 'He's gone off to Antibes for a fortnight, which is why I've got a holiday.'

    This description of a distinguished man of letters was received with equanimity by Mrs Haswell, accustomed to the phraseology of youth; with complete understanding by Charles, and the Lindales; and with patent nausea by Gavin Plenmeller, who asked in silken accents to have the term explained to him.

    'Ah, here come Mrs Cliburn and the Squire!' said Mrs Haswell, rising to greet these timely arrivals. 'Edith, how nice! But, Bernard, isn't Rosamund coming?'

    The Squire, a squarely built man who looked older than his sixty years, shook hands, saying: 'One of her heads. She told me to make her apologies, and say she'd be along to tea, if she feels up to it. I don't think there's much hope of it, but I left the car for her, just in case.'

    'Oh, dear, I am sorry! You know Mrs Lindale, don't you? And her husband, of course.'

    'Yes, indeed. Glad to see you, Mrs Lindale! And you, Lindale.' His deep-set eyes travelled to the tennis-courts.' Warrenby not here? Good opportunity for the rest of us to talk over this business about the River Board. Where's Henry, Adelaide?'

    'Well, I expect he'll be back before you leave.' replied Mrs Haswell. 'Though if it's about this tiresome River Board affair, I do wish -- However, it's not my business, so you'd better talk to Henry. I must say, it does seem a lot of fuss about very little.'

    'One does so want to avoid unpleasantness,' said Mrs Cliburn. 'Of course, it isn't anything to do with us either, but Tony and I can't help feeling that it would be a shame to appoint anyone but Mr Drybeck to act for this new River Board. I mean, he always did when it was