eysuckle had been overseen.
Laura was graver than usual, while Yvonne had a sardonic spark in
her eye. "I'm afraid it's no use waiting any longer, Isabel,"
said Laura.

"What do you think, Lawrence? It's after six o'clock."

"Hasn't Val come?" said Isabel.

"No, he must have been kept at Countisford. It's a long ride for
him on such a hot day. Perhaps Mrs. Bishop made him stay to
tea."

"As if he would stay with any old Mrs. Bishop when he knew you were
coming here!" said Isabel scornfully. "Poor old Val, I shan't tell
him how you misjudged him, he'd be so hurt. But I'll send him down,
shall I, to see you and Captain Hyde after supper?--Tired? Oh no,
he's never too tired to go to Wanhope."

She kissed Laura, gave Lawrence her sweetest friendly smile, and
returned to the lawn, where Yvonne had apparently taken root upon
her tigerskin. Isabel heard Rowsley say, "Make her shut up,
Jack," but before she could ask why Yvonne was to be shut up the
daughter of Lilith had opened fire on the daughter of Eve. "And
what did you think of Lawrence Hyde?" Mrs. Bendish asked,
stretching herself out like a snake and examining Isabel out of
her pale eyes, much the colour of an unripe gooseberry. "Was he
very attractive? Oh Isabel! oh Isabel! I should not have
thought this of one so young."

Isabel considered the point. "I can't understand him," she said
honestly. "I liked parts of him. He isn't so--so homogeneous as
most people are.

"Did he ask you for the honeysuckle?"

"No, I gave it to him for a peace offering. I hurt his feelings,
and afterwards I was sorry and wanted to make it up with him.
But would you have thought he had any feelings? any, that is,
that anything I said would hurt?"

"Certainly not," from Rowsley.

"Any woman can hurt any man," said Yvonne. "But, of course, you
aren't a woman, Isabel. What was the trouble?"

"Oh, something about the war."

"No, my child, it wasn't about the war. It was something that
stung up his vanity or his self-love. Lawrence isn't a
sentimentalist like Jack or Val." Here Jack Bendish got as far
as an artless "Oh, I say!" but his wife paid no attention.
"Lawrence never took the war seriously."

"But he did," insisted Isabel. "He coloured all over his face--"

She paused, realizing that Mrs. Bendish, under her mask of
scepticism, was agog with curiosity. Isabel was not fond of
being drawn out. Lawrence had given her his confidence, and she
valued it