ll be on any given occasion. So Nevil, who shirked
a "scene"--above all when conducted by Jane--put off telling her the
unwelcome news as long as he dared, without running the dire risk of its
reaching her "round the corner."

Meantime he was fortified and cheered by a letter from Cuthbert
Broome--a shrewd, practical letter amounting to a sober confession of
faith in Roy the embryo writer, as in Roy the budding man.

"I don't minimise the risk," he concluded, with his accustomed frankness
(no relation to the engaging candour that dances a war-dance on other
people's toes), "but, on broad lines, I hereby record my conviction that
the son of you two and the grandson of Sir Lakshman Singh can be trusted
to go far--to keep his head as well as his feet, even in slippery
places. He is eager for knowledge, for work along his own lines. If you
dam up this strong current, it may find other outlets, possibly less
desirable. I came on a jewel the other day. As it's distinctly
applicable, I pass it on.

"'The sole wisdom for man or boy who is haunted with the hovering of
unseen wings, with the scent of unseen roses, and the subtle enticement
of melodies unheard, is _work_. If he follow any of these, they vanish.
If he work, they will come unsought ..."

"Well, when Roy goes out, I undertake to provide him with work that will
keep his brain alert and his pen busy. That's my proposed contribution
to his start in life; and--though I say it!--not to be despised. Tell
him I'll bear down upon the Beeches the first available week-end, and
talk both your heads off!--Yours ever, C.B."

"After _that_," was Nevil's heroic conclusion, "Jane can say what she
damn well pleases."

He broke the news to her forthwith--by post; the usual expedient of
those who shirk "scenes." He furthermore took the precaution to add that
the matter was finally settled.

She replied next morning--by wire. "Cannot understand. Coming down at
once."

And, in record time, on the wings of her new travelling car--she came.

As head of the Sinclair clan--in years and worldly wisdom at least--she
could do no less. From her point of view, it was Nevil's clear duty to
discourage the Indian strain in the boy, as far as that sentimental,
headstrong wife of his would permit. But Nevil's sense of duty needed
constant galvanising, lest it die of inanition. It was her sacred
mission in life to galvanise it, especially in the matter of Roy; and no
one should ever say _she