been to stretch out her
own hand and touch his, to stroke it, and hold it close, and say such
fond words as women will, when their hearts are touched. "You dear
thing! You dear thing! what harm have _you_ done? _Your_ conscience
may sit at ease!" ... With a fellow-woman one would have carried out
the impulse, but convention forbade such sincerities between a man and a
woman unconnected by blood. Convention decreed that genuine feeling
should be disguised.

"Can't you?" said Cassandra lightly. "Oh, _I_ can! I sinned gloriously
in short frocks, with never a thought of consequences. My chum sister
was my partner in wickedness, we planned all our rebellions together,
but when it came to the bit, she missed half the fun. I could bury
everything in the joy of the moment, and forget there was such a thing
as to-morrow... She had no sooner done the deed, than she began to be
visited by qualms. I didn't object as much as I might have done, for if
the sin was edible--and it generally was.--there was so much the more
left for me. She used to sit and shiver, and say: `Cass, you'll be ill!
What _will_ Mother say?' while I ate up her share."

"And were you ill?"

"I forget," said Cassandra, and looked at him with a rebel's eyes. "But
I ate my cake!"

Before he had time to answer, suddenly, impetuously she had sprung to
her feet, and darted round a corner of the rockery to shelter behind a
clump of shrubs. Peignton followed, alert but mystified, but the
explanation came swiftly enough. From the raised path which curved
through the park to the entrance of the house came a familiar whirr, and
the next moment there sped into sight a large grey car carrying two men
on the box, and within the tonneau one large, elderly dame. From the
distance it was not possible to distinguish her face, but Cassandra
recognised her all the same, and groaned aloud.

"Mrs Freune... from Bagton. What _shall_ I do?"

"They'll look for you?"

"She'll make them. They'll ask the gardeners. They'll say I'm here."

"Let's run away!"

She looked at him and her eyes danced, but the instincts of hospitality
put up a fight. "It's a long drive! Twelve miles. She'll want tea."

"Does she stay long?"

"Hours. And talks politics into the bargain."

"Lloyd George?"

"Yes. And the German Invasion. There's no avoiding it."

"But it's a crime! On an afternoon like this, when the sun is
shining... You can't go..."

"She's driven t