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So quiet was the world that all life seemed to be hypnotized into wondering expectation.

"Why shouldn't I?" asked Millie with spirit.

"A man called Westcott, a friend of Henry's."

She was gone and he was alone to consider her news. Peter in love with Millie! How had he been so blind? Of course he could see it now, could remember a thousand things! Poor Peter! Henry felt old and protective and all-wise, then remembering the other things that Mary Cass had said blushed again.

Henry was amazed to see Lady Bell-Hall's splendid sang-froid. The house was tumbling about her head, her beloved brother was in all probability leaving her for ever, the whole of her material conditions were to change and be transformed, yet she, who beyond all women depended upon the permanence of minute signs and witnesses, gave herself no faintest whisper of apprehension.

"Adela Beaminster?" Alicia was greatly amused. "Oh, but haven't you heard about her? She's got a medium to live with her in her flat in Knightsbridge and talks to her mother every mornin' at eleven-fifteen."

And with that we leave them.

His gaze was not upon the stout woman but upon the child who attended her. Child you could not perhaps truthfully call her; she was at any rate not dressed as a child.

"Oh, I say! I'm sorry! . . . Oh dear!" he got up, staring at the distant bookshelves. "After the operation?"

"God must exist to explain all the love that there is in the world," he said.

He walked up and down his room, lurching a little from leg to leg like a sailor on his deck. Yes, he was awfully pleasedawfully pleased. . . . Somebody wanted him. Somebody thought his opinion worth having.

The house was unique for its size in Englandso small and yet displaying so perfectly the three periods of its growth. It gained also from its setting because the hills rose behind the garden and the little wood like grey formless presences against the sky, and on the ridge below the house the village, with cottages of vast age and cottagers who seemed to have found the secret of eternal life, slumbered through the seasons, carrying on the tradition of their fathers and listening but dimly to the changes that were coming upon the world beyond them. The[Pg 197] village had done well in the War as the cross in front of the Post Office testified, but the War had changed its life amazingly little.