with life there came to her a need of companionship.  She tried to tramp the need away on the turf of her well-loved downs, but she failed.  A friend to share with her the joy of these summer days!  Her blood clamoured for one.  But she was an outcast.  Friends did not come her way.  Therefore she had gratefully received old Mr. Hazlewood in her house, and had accepted, though with some fear, his proposal that she should lunch at the big house and make the acquaintance of his son.

She was nervous at the beginning of that meal, but both father and son were at the pains to put her at her ease; and soon she was talking naturally, with a colour in her cheeks, and now and then a note of laughter in her voice.  Dick worked for the recurrence of that laughter.  He liked the clear sound of it and the melting of all her face into sweetness and tender humour which came with it.  And for another thing he had a thought, and a true one, that it was very long since she had known the pleasure of good laughter.

They took their coffee out on the lawn under the shade of a huge cedar-tree.  The river ran at their feet and a Canadian canoe and a rowing-boat were tethered close by in a little dock.  The house, a place of grey stone with grey weathered and lichen-coloured slates, raised its great oblong chimneys into a pellucid air.  The sunlight flashed upon its rows of tall windows—­they were all flat to the house, except the one great bay on the ground floor in the library—­and birds called from all the trees.  The time slipped away.  Dick Hazlewood found himself talking of his work, a practice into which he seldom fell, and was surprised that she could talk of it with him.  He realised with a start how it was that she knew.  But she talked naturally and openly, as though he must know her history.  Once even some jargon of the Staff College slipped from her.  “You were doing let us pretend at Box Hill last week, weren’t you?” she said, and when he started at the phrase she imagined that he started at the extent of her information.  “It was in the papers,” she said.  “I read every word of them,” and then for a second her face clouded, and she added:  “I have time, you see.”

She looked at her watch and sprang to her feet.

“I must go,” she said.  “I didn’t know it was so late.  I have enjoyed myself very much.”  She did not hesitate now to offer her hand.  “Goodbye.”

Dick Hazlewood went with her as far as the gate and came back to his father.

“You were asking me,” he said carelessly, “if I could give you some part of the summer.  I don’t see why I shouldn’t come here in a day or two.  The polo matches aren’t so important.”

The old man’s eyes brightened.

“I shall be delighted, Richard, if you will.”  He looked at his son with something really ecstatic in his expression.  At last then his better nature was awakening.  “I really believe—­” he exclaimed and Dick cut him short.