art as bookbinding.  They were clearly ‘advanced’ people.  And Amanda was tremendously important to them, she was their light, their pride, their most living thing.  They focussed on her.  When he talked to them all in general he talked to her in particular.  He felt that some introduction of himself was due to these welcoming people.  He tried to give it mixed with an itinerary and a sketch of his experiences.  He praised the heather country and Harting Coombe and the Hartings.  He told them that London had suddenly become intolerable—­“In the spring sunshine.”

“You live in London?” said Mrs. Wilder.

Yes.  And he had wanted to think things out.  In London one could do no thinking—­

“Here we do nothing else,” said Amanda.

“Except dog-fights,” said the elder cousin.

“I thought I would just wander and think and sleep in the open air.  Have you ever tried to sleep in the open air?”

“In the summer we all do,” said the younger cousin.  “Amanda makes us.  We go out on to the little lawn at the back.”

“You see Amanda has some friends at Limpsfield.  And there they all go out and camp and sleep in the woods.”

“Of course,” reflected Mrs. Wilder, “in April it must be different.”

“It is different,” said Benham with feeling; “the night comes five hours too soon.  And it comes wet.”  He described his experiences and his flight to Shere and the kindly landlord and the cup of coffee.  “And after that I thought with a vengeance.”

“Do you write things?” asked Amanda abruptly, and it seemed to him with a note of hope.

“No.  No, it was just a private puzzle.  It was something I couldn’t get straight.”

“And you have got it straight?” asked Amanda.

“I think so.”

“You were making up your mind about something?”

“Amanda dear!” cried her mother.

“Oh!  I don’t mind telling you,” said Benham.

They seemed such unusual people that he was moved to unusual confidences.  They had that effect one gets at times with strangers freshly met as though they were not really in the world.  And there was something about Amanda that made him want to explain himself to her completely.

“What I wanted to think about was what I should do with my life.”

“Haven’t you any work—?” asked the elder cousin.

“None that I’m obliged to do.”

“That’s where a man has the advantage,” said Amanda with the tone of profound reflection.  “You can choose.  And what are you going to do with your life?”

“Amanda,” her mother protested, “really you mustn’t!”

“I’m going round the world to think about it,” Benham told her.

“I’d give my soul to travel,” said Amanda.

She addressed her remark to the salad in front of her.

“But have you no ties?” asked Mrs. Wilder.