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with very small hands and feet. Her hair was ash blonde and there was very little colour in her face. Her eyes were set wide apart and were a clear pale grey. Her features were small and regular, a straight little nose set in a small, oval, pale face. With such colouring, with a face that was pretty but not beautiful, she had nevertheless a quality about her that could not be denied nor ignored and that drew your eyes to her again and again. She was a little like a ghost, but you felt at the same time that a ghost might be possessed of more reality than a live human being ...
    She had a singularly lovely voice; soft and clear like a small silver bell.
    For some minutes she and the old lady talked of mutual friends and current events. Then Lady Tressilian said: “Besides the pleasure of seeing you, my dear, I asked you to come because I've had rather a curious letter from Nevile.”
    Audrey looked up. Her eyes were wide, tranquil sad calm. She said: “Oh, yes?”
    “He suggests - a preposterous suggestion, I call it - that he and - and Kay should come here in September. He says he wants you and Kay to be friends and that you yourself think it a good idea?”
    She waited. Presently Audrey said in her gentle, placid voice: “Is it - so preposterous?”
    “My dear - do you really want this to happen?”
    Audrey was silent again for a minute or two, then she said gently: “I think, you know, it might be rather a good thing.”
    “You really want to meet this - you want to meet Kay?”
    “I do think, Camilla, that it might - simplify things.”
    “Simplify things!” Lady Tressilian repeated the words helplessly.
    Audrey spoke very softly: “Dear Camilla. You have been so good. If Nevile wants this -”
    “A fig for what Nevile wants!” said Lady Tressilian robustly. “Do you want it, that's the question?”
    A little colour came in Audrey's cheeks. It was the soft, delicate glow of a sea-shell.
    “Yes,” she said. “I do want it.”
    “Well,” said Lady Tressilian, “well -”
    She stopped.
    “But, of course,” said Audrey. “It is entirely your choice. It is your house and -”
    Lady Tressilian shut her eyes.
    “I'm an old woman,” she said. “Nothing makes sense any more.”
    “But, of course - I'll come some other time. Any time will suit me.”
    “You'll come in September, as you always do,” snapped Lady Tressilian. “And Nevile and Kay shall come, too. I may be old, but I can adapt myself, I suppose, as well as anyone else, to the changing phases of modern life. Not another word; that's settled.”
    She closed her eyes again. After a minute or two she said, peering through half-shut lids at the young woman beside her: “Well, got what you want?”
    Audrey started. “Oh, yes, yes. Thank you.”
    “My dear,” said Lady Tressilian, and her voice was deep and concerned, “are you sure this isn't going to hurt you? You were very fond of Nevile, you know. This may reopen old wounds.”
    Audrey was looking down at her small gloved hands. One of them. Lady Tressilian noticed, was clenched on the side of the bed.
    Audrey lifted her head. Her eyes were calm and untroubled. She said: “All that is quite over now. Quite over.”
    Lady Tressilian leaned more heavily back on her pillows. “Well - you should know. I'm tired - you must leave me now, dear. Mary is waiting for you downstairs. Tell them to send Barrett to me.”
    Barrett was Lady Tressilian's elderly and devoted maid. She came in to find her mistress lying back with closed eyes.
    “The sooner I'm out of this world the better, Barrett,” said Lady Tressilian. “I don't understand anything or anyone in it.”
    “Ah! don't say that, my lady; you're tired.”
    Yes, I'm tired. Take that eiderdown off my feet and give me a dose of my tonic."
    “It's Mrs. Strange coming that's upset you. A nice lady, but she could do with a tonic, I'd say. Not healthy. Always looks as though she's seeing things other people don't see. But she's got a lot of