r silence.

"He's got a lovely voice," said Anne, and Lydia answered chokingly:

"Yes."

"Do you think he sings?" Anne pursued, more, Lydia knew, to loosen the
tension than anything. "Farvie never told us that."

But Lydia couldn't answer any more, and then they both became aware that
Mary Nellen had hurried out some supper from the pantry and put quite an
array of candles on the table. She had then disappeared. Mary Nellen had
great delicacy of feeling. Anne began to light the candles, and Lydia
went back to the library. The colonel and Jeffrey were sitting there
like two men with nothing in particular to say, but, because they
happened to be in the same room, exchanging commonplaces.

"Supper's in the dining-room," said Lydia, in a weak little voice.

The colonel was about to rise, but Jeffrey said:

"Not for me."

"Have you had something?" his father asked, and Jeffrey answered:

"None for me--thank you."

The last two words seemed to be an afterthought. Lydia wondered if he
hadn't felt like thanking anybody in years. There seemed to be nothing
for her to do in this rigid sort of reunion, and she went back to Anne
in the dining-room.

"He doesn't want anything," she said. "We can clear away."

They did it in their deft fashion of working together, and then sat down
in the candlelight, making no pretence of reading or talk. All the time
they could hear the two voices from the library, going on at regular
intervals. At ten o'clock they were still going on, at eleven. Lydia
felt a deadly sleepiness, but she roused then and said, in the midst of
a yawn:

"I'm afraid Farvie'll be tired."

"Yes," said Anne. "I'll go and speak to them."

She went out of the room, and crossed the hall in her delicate,
soft-stepping way. She seemed to Lydia astonishingly brave. Lydia could
hear her voice from the other room, such a kind voice but steadied with
a little clear authority.

"You mustn't get tired, Farvie."

The strange voice jumped in on the heels of hers, as if it felt it ought
to be reproved.

"Of course not. I'd no idea how late it was."

Anne turned to Jeffrey. Lydia, listening, could tell from the different
direction of the voice.

"Your room is all ready. It's your old room."

There was a pin-prick of silence and then the strange voice said
quickly: "Thank you," as if it wanted to get everything, even
civilities, quickly over.

Lydia sat still in the dining-room. The candles had guttered and gon