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spoke was unexpectedly pleasant. Deep and slow.
    â€œA husband,” he said, “is always an afterthought. But let me saywith my wife that we’re very glad to welcome you here. I hope you don’t feel that it ought to be the other way about.”
    â€œYou must get it out of your head,” said Mrs. Bantry, “that I’ve been driven forth from my old home. It never was my old home. I’ve been congratulating myself ever since I sold it. It was a most inconvenient house to run. I liked the garden but the house became more and more of a worry. I’ve had a perfectly splendid time ever since travelling abroad and going and seeing my married daughters and my grandchildren and my friends in all different parts of the world.”
    â€œDaughters,” said Marina Gregg, “you have daughters and sons?”
    â€œTwo sons and two daughters,” said Mrs. Bantry, “and pretty widely spaced. One in Kenya, one in South Africa. One near Texas and the other, thank goodness, in London.”
    â€œFour,” said Marina Gregg. “Four—and grandchildren?”
    â€œNine up-to-date,” said Mrs. Bantry. “It’s great fun being a grandmother. You don’t have any of the worry of parental responsibility. You can spoil them in the most unbridled way—”
    Jason Rudd interrupted her. “I’m afraid the sun catches your eyes,” he said, and went to a window to adjust the blind. “You must tell us all about this delightful village,” he said as he came back.
    He handed her a cup of tea.
    â€œWill you have a hot scone or a sandwich, or this cake? We have an Italian cook and she makes quite good pastry and cakes. You see we have quite taken to your English afternoon tea.”
    â€œDelicious tea too,” said Mrs. Bantry, sipping the fragrant beverage.
    Marina Gregg smiled and looked pleased. The sudden nervous movement of her fingers which Jason Rudd’s eyes had noticed a minute or two previously, was stilled again. Mrs. Bantry looked at herhostess with great admiration. Marina Gregg’s heyday had been before the rise to supreme importance of vital statistics. She could not have been described as Sex Incarnate, or “The Bust” or “The Torso.” She had been long and slim and willowy. The bones of her face and head had had some of the beauty associated with those of Garbo. She had brought personality to her pictures rather than mere sex. The sudden turn of her head, the opening of the deep lovely eyes, the faint quiver of her mouth, all these were what brought to one suddenly that feeling of breathtaking loveliness that comes not from regularity of feature but from sudden magic of the flesh that catches the onlooker unawares. She still had this quality though it was not now so easily apparent. Like many film and stage actresses she had what seemed to be a habit of turning off personality at will. She could retire into herself, be quiet, gentle, aloof, disappointing to an eager fan. And then suddenly the turn of the head, the movement of the hands, the sudden smile and the magic was there.
    One of her greatest pictures had been Mary, Queen of Scots, and it was of her performance in that picture that Mrs. Bantry was reminded now as she watched her. Mrs. Bantry’s eye switched to the husband. He too was watching Marina. Off guard for a moment, his face expressed clearly his feelings. “Good Lord,” said Mrs. Bantry to herself, “the man adores her.”
    She didn’t know why she should feel so surprised. Perhaps because film stars and their love affairs and their devotion were so written up in the Press that one never expected to see the real thing with one’s own eyes. On an impulse she said:
    â€œI do hope you’ll enjoy it here and that you’ll be able to stay here some time. Do you expect to have the house for long?”
    Marina opened wide surprised eyes as she turned her head.