n to Mrs.
Chesney, however, that the trustees of the Wychcote property were
empowered to advance sums of money for the education and maintenance of
her son, and that the money for maintenance would be paid to her as his
guardian, in order that she might keep up a position suitable for the
young peer. Mr. Surtees ended by venturing to express to Mrs. Chesney
his opinion, as the legal adviser of the family, that it would be well
for her to come to England with her son as soon as possible.

From the receipt of this letter until two months later, when she was
settled at Breene, Sophy moved again in a world of unreality. The quiet
of the lovely old house and its surrounding woods and gardens helped to
restore her to her normal state once more; for she found Breene a place
after her own heart, strangely familiar, as though she had visited it
before in dreams. As Mr. Surtees had said, the house was Tudor, but it
had been added to and altered during so many other epochs, that it had
ended by having a flavour and architecture all its own. For some years
it had been leased, and the great walls of yew that enclosed the lawns
were smooth and massy from constant clipping. It stood in a crescent of
beech woods. Scotch firs towered behind it. To the south lay
rose-gardens sloping to an oval pond.

And this adorable old place was her own. Sophy could scarcely believe
it. The first three weeks of her return to England had been spent at
Dynehurst with Lady Wychcote. Those had been gloomy weeks indeed, for in
addition to the natural sadness of the situation, there had been
inevitable friction between her and Lady Wychcote on the subject of
Bobby's future. Sophy had known of course that this must come, but she
had hoped that it would not come so quickly. Lady Wychcote was
intolerant of the idea that Bobby should become a writer. Sophy firmly
maintained that the boy should choose his own career. Both women
controlled their tempers, but there had been some sharp passages of arms
between them. When Sophy went to her room the second night at Dynehurst,
she thanked Gerald, as though he had been alive and could hear her, for
having made it possible for her to live in a house of her own with her
son, apart from his grandmother.

While she was at Dynehurst, Olive Arundel had helped Miss Pickett to get
all in order at Breene--for Susan had consented to come and live with
Sophy for the next few years.

It was quite wonderful to drive up to the o