ia for tea, he rushed forward with
his usual charming manners to assist her.

Presently Gillian joined them, exclaiming with surprise as she perceived
who was the visitor.

"Why, this is like a bit of London appearing in our very midst," she
declared, shaking hands with Davilof. "Where have you hailed from? I
heard the car but never suspected you were the arrival."

"I'm on holiday," he replied. "And it struck me"--his hazel eyes smiled
straight into hers--"that Devonshire might be a very delightful place in
which to spend my holiday."

Magda looked up suddenly from stirring her tea.

"I think you've made a mistake, Davilof," she said curtly. "You're not
likely to enjoy a holiday in Devonshire."

June, innocently unaware of any double entente in Magda's speech,
glanced across at her in astonishment.

"Oh, but why not, Miss Vallincourt? Devon is a lovely county; most
people like it so much. But perhaps you don't care for the country,
Mr.--Mr. Davilof?" She stumbled a little over the foreign name.

"I think it would depend upon who my neighbours were--whether I liked it
or nor," he returned, meeting Magda's glance challengingly over the top
of June's head, bent above the teacups. "I feel sure I should like it
here. And there is a charming little inn at Ashencombe where one might
stop."

Gillian divined that a veiled passage of arms between Magda and the
musician underlay the light discussion. Moreover--though she had no
clue to the cause--she was sensitively conscious that the former was
not quite herself. She had seen that white, set look on her face before.
Something had distressed her, and Gillian felt apprehensive lest Davilof
had been the bearer of unwelcome tidings. It was either that, or else
he must have succeeded in frictioning Magda in some way himself, since,
beyond flinging an occasional double-edged sentence in his direction,
she seemed absent and disinclined to take part in the conversation.

It was almost a relief to Gillian when Dan Storran appeared, although
the recollection of the strained atmosphere which had attended the
previous meal did not hold out much promise of better things to come.
His face was still clouded and he glowered at the tea-table under the
elms with dissatisfied eyes.

"What on earth's the meaning of this?" he demanded ungraciously of his
wife. "Is it some newfangled notion that's got you?"

June coloured up nervously, and was about to falter an explanation of
the inno