“To-morrow?” Sara looks surprised.  “But we promised to go to tea with Audrey to-morrow.”

Molly flushed and looked away.

“Did we?” she said vaguely.  “I’d forgotten.”

“Can’t you arrange to go to Oldhampton the next day instead?” continued Sara.

Molly frowned a little.  At last—­

“I tell you what I’ll do,” she said agreeably.  “I’ll come back by the afternoon train and meet you at Greenacres.”  And with this concession Sara had to be content.

Tea at Greenacres resolved itself into a kind of rarefied picnic, and, as Sara crossed the cool green lawns in the wake of a smart parlourmaid, she found that quite a considerable number of Audrey’s friends—­and enemies—­were gathered together under the shade of the trees, partaking of tea and strawberries and cream.  The elite of the neighbourhood might find many disagreeable things to say concerning Mrs. Maynard, but they were not in the least averse to accepting her hospitality whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Sara’s heart leapt suddenly as she descried Trent’s lean, well-knit figure amongst those dotted about on the lawn.  She had tried very hard to accustom herself to meet him with composure, but at each encounter, although outwardly quite cool, her pulses raced, and to-day, the first time she had seen him since her return from London, she felt as though all her nerves were outside her skin instead of underneath it.

He was talking to Miles Herrick.  The latter, lying back luxuriously in a deck-chair, proceeded to wave and beckon an enthusiastic greeting as soon as he caught sight of Sara, and rather reluctantly she responded to his signals and made her way towards the two men.

“I feel like a bloated sultan summoning one of the ladies of the harem to his presence,” confessed Miles apologetically when he had shaken hands.  “I’ve added a sprained ankle to my other disabilities,” he continued cheerfully.  “Hence my apparent laziness.”

Sara commiserated appropriately.

“How did you manage to get here?” she asked.

Miles gestured towards Trent.

“This man maintained that it was bad for my mental and moral health to brood alone at home while Lavinia went skipping off into society unchaperoned.  So he fetched me along in his car.”

Sara’s eyes rested thoughtfully on Trent’s face a moment.

It was odd how kindly and considerate he always showed himself towards Miles Herrick.  Perhaps somewhere within him a responsive chord was touched by the evidence of the other man’s broken life.

“Miss Tennant is thinking that it’s a case of the blind leading the blind for me to act as a cicerone into society,” remarked Trent curtly.

Sara winced at the repellent hardness of his tone, but she declined to take up the challenge.

“I am very glad you persuaded Miles to come over,” was all she said.