“It really was disgraceful!  However it’s brought us the pleasure of making your acquaintance.  I’ve read your book, of course.”

To Courtier it seemed that on this lady’s face had come a look which seemed to say:  Yes, very clever and amusing, quite enjoyable!  But the ideas——­What?  You know very well they won’t do—­in fact they mustn’t do!

“That’s very nice of you.”

But into Lady Valleys’ answer, “I don’t agree with it a bit, you know!” there had crept a touch of asperity, as though she knew that he had smiled inside.  “What we want preached in these days are the warlike virtues—­especially by a warrior.”

“Believe me, Lady Valleys, the warlike virtues are best left to men of more virgin imagination.”

He received a quick look, and the words:  “Anyway, I’m sure you don’t care a rap for politics.  You know Mrs. Lees Noel, don’t you?  What a pretty woman she is!”

But as she spoke Courtier saw a young girl coming along the terrace.  She had evidently been riding, for she wore high boots and a skirt which had enabled her to sit astride.  Her eyes were blue, and her hair—­the colour of beech-leaves in autumn with the sun shining through—­was coiled up tight under a small soft hat.  She was tall, and moved towards them like one endowed with great length from the hip joint to the knee.  Joy of life, serene, unconscious vigour, seemed to radiate from her whole face and figure.

At Lady Valleys’ words: 

“Ah, Babs!  My daughter Barbara—­Mr. Courtier,” he put out his hand, received within it some gauntleted fingers held out with a smile, and heard her say: 

“Miltoun’s gone up to Town, Mother; I was going to motor in to Bucklandbury with a message he gave me; so I can fetch Granny out from the station:” 

“You had better take Ann, or she’ll make our lives a burden; and perhaps Mr. Courtier would like an airing.  Is your knee fit, do you think?”

Glancing at the apparition, Courtier replied: 

“It is.”

Never since the age of seven had he been able to look on feminine beauty without a sense of warmth and faint excitement; and seeing now perhaps the most beautiful girl he had ever beheld, he desired to be with her wherever she might be going.  There was too something very fascinating in the way she smiled, as if she had a little seen through his sentiments.

“Well then,” she said, “we’d better look for Ann.”

After short but vigorous search little Ann was found—­in the car, instinct having told her of a forward movement in which it was her duty to take part.  And soon they had started, Ann between them in that peculiar state of silence to which she became liable when really interested.