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popular phrase, she lived or. her nerves, which were ill-adapted to bear the strain. She had endured two world wars, dying a thousand vicarious deaths in the first, when she had known that every telegram delivered to her must contain the news that her husband had been killed in action; and losing her only child in the second. Her friends had prophesied that she would not recover from this blow; but she had recovered, exerting herself to support and to comfort the Squire, whose pride and hope were buried somewhere in the North African Desert. It might have been expected that he and she, with their heir dead, would have ceased to struggle to maintain an estate impoverished by the financial demands of one war, and brought almost to penury by those of a second, but, as the Squire's legal adviser, Thaddeus Drybeck, loftily pointed out to his acquaintance, Blood Told, and the Squire continued to plan and contrive as though he believed he would be succeeded by the son he had adored, and not by a nephew whom he scarcely knew, and did not much like.

    Mrs Haswell, installing her friend in a comfortable chair and supplying her with the tea for which she said she craved, was tactful not to betray her realization that this was one of poor Rosamund's bad days. There was a glitter in those restless eyes, too high a colour in those thin cheeks, an artificial gaiety in the high-pitched voice, which she could not like, and hoped the Squire would not notice. Whether he did or not it was impossible to guess: by tradition and temperament he was a man who concealed his thoughts and his feelings.

    When all the strawberries had been eaten and all the iced coffee drunk, the Vicar solved a problem which had been exercising Mrs Haswell's mind for some time. He said that much as he would like to engage on further Homeric struggles duty called him, and he must away, to pay a parochial visit on a sick parishioner. This left only nine potential tennis-players to be accommodated on two courts, and no one could doubt, as Gavin Plenmeller informed Kenelm Lindale under his breath that Miss Warrenby would honestly prefer to watch. He was quite right, but judging by his expression, had scarcely foreseen the immediate sequel to this act of self-abnegation. When polite opposition had been overborne, Mrs Haswell said: 'You and Gavin must keep one another company, then, dear. Rosamund, I'm going to take you into the house: it's far too hot for you to be sitting outside.'

    29 'Good God!' uttered Gavin, for Kenelm's ear. 'This is where I must think fast! None of you who pity me for my disability have the least conception of the horrors to which I am subjected. I will not bear that afflictive girl company. Quick, what does A. do?'

    'You can't do anything,' said Kenelm, rather amused.

    'You betray your ignorance of my character.'

    Kenelm laughed, but soon found that he had underrated Mr Plenmeller's bland ingenuity, and had certainly been ignorant of the ruthlessness which led that gentleman to implicate him in his plan of escape. He now learned that owing to his own importunity Gavin was about to return to his home to fetch for his perusal, the River Board correspondence; and he began to perceive why it was that Gavin was not popular with his neighbours.

    'Oh, I'm sure you ought not to!' exclaimed Mavis, glancing reproachfully at Kenelm.

    'But I am sure I ought. You could see the Squire was displeased with me. He felt I shouldn't have forgotten to return the papers, and I have a dreadful premonition that I shall go on forgetting.'

    'You needn't fetch them for my sake,' interrupted Kenelm maliciously.

    'No, for my own!' retorted Gavin, not in the least discomfited. 'Something accomplished will earn me a night's repose. I rarely accomplish anything, and never suffer from insomnia, but Miss Warrenby has often told me what an excellent maxim that is.'

    'Oh, yes, but all that way just for a few papers! Couldn't someone else go for you?' said Mavis. 'I'm sure I'd