en with girls they hardly knew at all.

Just then she noticed a movement of Beryl's, and saw her friend's
small bare hand creep out and slip itself into Aubrey Mannering's,
as he sat beside her on the grass. The man's hand enfolded the
girl's--he turned round to smile at her in silence. A pang of
passionate envy swept through Pamela. It was just so she wished to
be enfolded--to be loved.

It was Elizabeth--as the person who had business to do and hours to
keep--who gave the signal for the break-up of the party. She sprang
to her feet, with a light, decided movement, and all the others fell
into line. Arthur and Beryl still accompanied the Mannering
contingent a short distance, the Captain walking beside Elizabeth in
animated conversation. At last Beryl peremptorily recalled him to
the pony-carriage, and the group halted for good-byes.

Pamela stood rather stiffly apart. The Captain went up to her.

'Good-bye, Pamela. Do write to me sometimes! I shall be awfully
interested about the farms!'

With vexation she felt the colour rush to her cheeks.

'I shan't have much to say about them,' she said stiffly.

'I'm sure you will! You'll get keen! But write about anything. It's
awfully jolly to get letters at the front!'

His friendly, interrogating eyes were on her, as though she puzzled
him in this new phase, and he wanted to understand her. She said
hurriedly, 'If you like,' hating herself for the coolness in her
voice, and shook hands, only to hear him say, as he turned finally
to Elizabeth, 'Mind, you have promised me "The Battle of the
Plough"! I'm afraid you'll hardly have time to put it into iambics!'

So he had asked Miss Bremerton to write to him too! Pamela vowed
inwardly that in that case she would not write him a line. And it
seemed to her unseemly that her father's secretary should be making
mock of her father's proceedings with a man who was a complete
stranger to her. She walked impetuously ahead of Aubrey and
Elizabeth. Towards the west the beautiful day was dying, and the
light streamed on the girl's lithe young figure and caught her
golden-brown hair. Clouds of gnats rose in the mild air; and a light
seemed to come back from the bronzed and purple hedgerows, making a
gorgeous atmosphere, in which the quiet hill-top and the thinning
trees swam transfigured. A green woodpecker was pecking
industriously among some hedgerow oaks, and Pamela, who loved birds
and watched them, caught every now and then th