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Miss Liddell after dinner. I suppose he may go up then. But I don’t expect he’ll ask about the tablets. They’ve been going on for so long now. We just say when the bottle is getting empty and he gives us a fresh prescription.”
    “Do you know how many tablets there are in the house now?”
    “There’s a new bottle with the seal unbroken. We were to start it tonight.”
    “Then leave it in the cupboard and give him the medicine. I shall be able to talk to Eppy about it when I see him on Saturday. I’ll get down late tomorrow night. You had better come with me to the dispensary now and it would be wiser to get home straight away. I’ll telephone Martha and ask her to keep you some dinner.”
    “Yes, Stephen.” Deborah did not regret the loss of her meal. All the pleasure of the day had evaporated. It was time to be going home.
    “And I would rather you said nothing to Sally about this.”
    “I hadn’t the slightest intention of doing so. I only hope she’s capable of a similar discretion. We don’t want this story all over the village.”
    “That’s an unfair thing to say, Deborah, and you don’t evenbelieve it. You couldn’t have anyone safer than Sally. She was very sensible about it. And rather sweet.”
    “I’m sure she was.”
    “She was naturally worried about it. She’s very devoted to Father.”
    “She seems to be extending her devotion to you.”
    “What on earth do you mean?”
    “I was wondering why she didn’t tell Mother about the tablets. Or me.”
    “You haven’t done much to encourage her to confide in you, have you?”
    “What on earth do you expect me to do? Hold her hand? I’m not particularly interested in her as long as she does her work efficiently. I don’t like her and I don’t expect her to like me.”
    “It’s not true that you don’t like her,” said Stephen. “You hate her.”
    “Did she complain of the way she’s been treated?”
    “Of course she didn’t. Do be sensible, Deb. This isn’t like you.”
    “Isn’t it?” thought Deborah. “How do you know what’s like me?” But she recognized in Stephen’s last words a plea for peace and she held out her hand to him, saying, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I’m sure Sally did what she thought best. It isn’t worth quarrelling about anyway. Do you want me to wait up for you tomorrow night? Felix won’t be able to get down until Saturday morning, but Catherine is expected for dinner.”
    “Don’t bother. I may have to get the last bus. But I’ll ride with you before breakfast if you like to call me.”
    The significance of this formal offer in place of the previously happily established routine did not escape Deborah. The chasm between them had only been precariously bridged. Shefelt that Stephen, too, was uneasily aware of the cracking ice beneath their feet. Never since the death of Edward Riscoe had she felt so alienated from Stephen; never since then had she been so in need of him.

4
    It was nearly half past seven before Martha heard the sound she had been listening for, the squeak of pram wheels on the drive. Jimmy was whining softly and was obviously only persuaded from open bawling by the soothing motion of the pram and the soft reassurances of his mother. Soon Sally’s head was seen to pass the kitchen window, the pram was wheeled into the scullery and, almost immediately, mother and child appeared through the kitchen door. There was an air of suppressed emotion about the girl. She seemed at once nervous and yet pleased with herself. Martha did not think that an afternoon wheeling Jimmy in the forest could altogether account for that look of secretive and triumphant pleasure.
    “You’re late,” she said. “I should think the child is starving, poor mite.”
    “Well, he won’t have to wait much longer, will you my pet? I suppose there isn’t any milk boiled?”
    “I’m not here to wait on you, Sally, please remember. If you want milk you must boil it