He came to the old chalk-pit above Wansdon with his mind no more made up than when he started.  To see both sides of a question vigorously was at once Jon’s strength and weakness.  He tramped in, just as the first dinner-bell rang.  His things had already been brought up.  He had a hurried bath and came down to find Holly alone—­Val had gone to Town and would not be back till the last train.

Since Val’s advice to him to ask his sister what was the matter between the two families, so much had happened—­Fleur’s disclosure in the Green Park, her visit to Robin Hill, to-day’s meeting—­that there seemed nothing to ask.  He talked of Spain, his sunstroke, Val’s horses, their father’s health.  Holly startled him by saying that she thought their father not at all well.  She had been twice to Robin Hill for the week-end.  He had seemed fearfully languid, sometimes even in pain, but had always refused to talk about himself.

“He’s awfully dear and unselfish—­don’t you think, Jon?”

Feeling far from dear and unselfish himself, Jon answered:  “Rather!”

“I think, he’s been a simply perfect father, so long as I can remember.”

“Yes,” answered Jon, very subdued.

“He’s never interfered, and he’s always seemed to understand.  I shall never forget his letting me go to South Africa in the Boer War when I was in love with Val.”

“That was before he married Mother, wasn’t it?” said Jon suddenly.

“Yes.  Why?”

“Oh! nothing.  Only, wasn’t she engaged to Fleur’s father first?”

Holly put down the spoon she was using, and raised her eyes.  Her stare was circumspect.  What did the boy know?  Enough to make it better to tell him?  She could not decide.  He looked strained and worried, altogether older, but that might be the sunstroke.

“There was something,” she said.  “Of course we were out there, and got no news of anything.”  She could not take the risk.

It was not her secret.  Besides, she was in the dark about his feelings now.  Before Spain she had made sure he was in love; but boys were boys; that was seven weeks ago, and all Spain between.

She saw that he knew she was putting him off, and added: 

“Have you heard anything of Fleur?”

“Yes.”

His face told her, then, more than the most elaborate explanations.  So he had not forgotten!

She said very quietly:  “Fleur is awfully attractive, Jon, but you know—­Val and I don’t really like her very much.”

“Why?”

“We think she’s got rather a ‘having’ nature.”

“‘Having’?  I don’t know what you mean.  She—­she—­” he pushed his dessert plate away, got up, and went to the window.

Holly, too, got up, and put her arm round his waist.

“Don’t be angry, Jon dear.  We can’t all see people in the same light, can we?  You know, I believe each of us only has about one or two people who can see the best that’s in us, and bring it out.  For you I think it’s your mother.  I once saw her looking at a letter of yours; it was wonderful to see her face.  I think she’s the most beautiful woman I ever saw—­Age doesn’t seem to touch her.”