means, and the world against him. He did not reason
it out to a logical conclusion, but he saw it clearly.

Max concluded the subject was not to be discussed and went on with an
explanation of why Christopher had not been met in state after four
years' absence.

"The motor was to come for you, but it's gone wrong, and Aymer said
you'd rather walk than drive, and we were not quite certain of the
train. Do you really hate driving, Christopher?"

"Yes, I always think the horses will run away. Aymer knows that. Is it
really four years since I was here, Max?"

"Yes, at Christmas. You never came down when you were in town two
years ago. It was a beastly shame of you."

"I'd only two months and Caesar wanted me. That was before I went to
Switzerland, wasn't it? They know something about road-making there,
Max, but I've learnt more in France."

"And all about motors, too?" questioned Max eagerly. "Can you really
drive one?"

Christopher laughed. "I've won a race or two, and I've got a
certificate. Perhaps it won't pass in England."

"Will you teach me to drive? I just long to: but St. Michael says
no--though he doesn't mind Geoffry Leverson teaching me to shoot. He's
home now, you know, and comes over most days, and when Patricia won't
play golf, he takes me shooting."

"Patricia's taken to golf then?"

"Yes. Geoffry says she's splendid, but I expect that's just to make
her play up."

They had turned off the highroad now and were in the fields following
a path on the side of the sloping meadows. The mist that hung over the
river did not reach up to them and Christopher could see the thick
foliage of the woods opposite, splashed with gold and russet, heavy
with moisture. The warm damp smell of autumn was in the air. He took a
long breath and squared his shoulders.

"It's good to be back. To think of its being four whole years."

"And two since you've seen any of us. Are you going away again,
Christopher?"

"In the spring. There's St. Michael."

He was waiting by a stile leading into a wood that gave quicker access
to Marden Court, and he came forward to meet them with undisguised
pleasure.

Charles Aston had rendered but small homage to time. He was as erect
and thin as ever, hair perhaps a little white, but the kind eyes had
lost nothing of their penetrating quality.

Christopher's welcome could not have been warmer had it been his own
father. Max went ahead to find Charlotte and left the two to come on