lines of his face. Under his moist tossed hair it
was a young face, as Miss Amabel had told him, and his attitude became a
boy.

"Lydia," said he, "what do you two talk about?"

"Madame Beattie and I?"

"Yes. In those long drives, for instance, what do you say?"

Lydia looked at him, her eyes narrowed slightly, and Jeffrey knew she
did not want to tell. When Esther didn't want to tell, a certain soft
glaze came over her eyes. Jeffrey had seen the glaze for a number of
years before he knew what it meant. And when he found out, though it had
been a good deal of a shock, he hardly thought the worse of Esther. He
generalised quite freely and concluded that you couldn't expect the same
standards of women as from men; and after that he was a little nervous
and rather careful about the questions he asked. But Lydia's eyes had no
glaze. They were desperate rather, the eyes of a little wild thing that
is going to be frightened and possibly caught. Jeffrey felt quite
excited, he was so curious to know what form the lie would take.

"Politics," said Lydia.

Jeffrey broke out into a laugh.

"Oh, come off!" said he. "Politics. Not much you don't."

Lydia laughed, too, in a sudden relief and pleasure. She didn't like her
lie, it seemed.

"No," said she, "we don't. But I tell Anne if people ask questions it's
at their own risk. They must take what they get."

"Anne wouldn't tell a lie," said Jeffrey.

She flared up at him.

"I wouldn't either. I never do. You took me by surprise."

"Does Madame Beattie talk to you about her life abroad?"

He ventured this. But she was gazing at him in the clearest candour.

"Oh, no." "About what, Lydia? Tell me. It bothers me."

"Did Miss Amabel bother you?" The charming face was fiery.

"I don't need Amabel to tell me you're taking long drives with Madame
Beattie. She's a battered old party, Lydia. She's seen lots of things
you don't want even to hear about."

She was gazing at him now in quite a dignified surprise.

"If you mean things that are not nice," she said, "I shouldn't listen to
them. But she wouldn't want me to. Madame Beattie is--" She saw no
adequate way to put it.

But Jeffrey understood her. He, too, believed Madame Beattie had a
decency of her own.

"Never mind," said he. "Only I want to keep you as you are. So would
father. And Anne."

Lydia sat straight in her chair, her cheeks scarlet from excitement, her
eyes speaking with the full power of their limpi