ld Manor house in the late
April afternoon, and find Susan standing in the open doorway to receive
her. Behind her the light from a fire of beech logs flickered over the
dark wainscoting. Candles and lamps were lighted. The tea-table stood
ready. This was home--her home and Bobby's--this lovely, dignified old
house with its sheltering yew hedges shutting out the world until she
should need it once again.

XLVII

The only regret that Sophy felt for not living part of the time in
London was on account of her friendship with Amaldi. It would have been
so much easier for her to see him constantly had she been in town. But
then Breene was not so far away. He could easily spend a day with her
now and then. Susan's presence would make such visits perfectly proper.
In his last letter he had said that he would be in England about the end
of April. The symphonies that had met with such acclaim in Dresden were
now to be given in London.

Sophy looked forward with more and more of that odd mingling of dread
and pleasure to seeing him again. She had found the attempt to realise
ideals but a tragic business. And the ideal that she had of their
friendship was very high.

But from the first day that Amaldi spent with her at Breene, she knew
that her doubts had all been unfounded. Their friendship when together
again was more perfect than ever, for the slight constraint that she had
so often felt underneath his spoken words seemed quite gone. He talked
with her now almost as freely as he had written in those letters that
she so treasured. And there was something different, also, in his look,
his voice, a naturalness, as it were a relaxing of some inner tension.

She did not realise that never before had Amaldi known her as a free
woman. Always before she had belonged to some one else. Now she was her
own. What she gave him no one else had any right to. The relief and the
joy that he had in this knowledge made him seem another man even to
himself at this time. It was enough for the time being to realise the
inviolateness of all her sanctities. This realisation was so wonderful
that it stayed for a while the sharp urge of love, and filled the
vacancies of absence with a sense of triumph.

As for the little household--Sue Pickett, Bobby, Harold Grey--they all
liked Amaldi heartily. And as other friends, both men and women, often
"spent a day" at Breene with Sophy, Miss Pickett had no cause to worry
over "appearances," as she