d earth; her veins, as it
were, still full of the sheer pleasure of her long day among the stubbles
and the young stock. She was tired, of course; and she knew very well
that the winter, when it came, would make a great difference, and that
much of the work before her would be hard and disagreeable. But for the
moment, her deep satisfaction with the life she had chosen, the congruity
between it and her, gave her a peculiar charm. She breathed content, and
there is no more beautifying thing.

She had thought a good deal about Ellesborough since their meeting; yet
not absorbingly, for she had her work to do. She was rather inclined to
quarrel with him for having been so long in making his call; and this
feeling, perhaps, induced her to dawdle a little over the last touches of
her toilet. She had put on a thin, black dress, which tamed the
exuberance of her face and hair, and set off the brilliance and fineness
of her skin where the open blouse displayed it. The beautiful throat was
sunburnt, indeed, but not unbecomingly so; and she was about to fasten
round it a slender gold chain, when she suddenly dropped the chain. Some
association had passed through her mind which made her shrink from it.

She chose instead a necklace of bluish-green beads, long, and curiously
interwoven, which gave a touch of dignity to the plain dress. Then she
paused to consider the whole effect, in a spirit of meditation rather
than mere vanity. "_I wish he knew_!" she thought, and the glass
reflected a frown of perplexity. Had she been wise, after all, to make
such a complete mystery of the past? People in and about Ipscombe would
probably know some time--what all her Canadian friends knew. And then,
the thought of the endless explanations and gossip, of the horrid
humiliation involved in any renewed contact whatever with the ugly things
she had put behind her, roused a sudden, surging disgust.

"Yes, I was quite right," she thought vehemently. "I was quite right!"

Voices in the room downstairs! That meant that Janet had gone in to greet
the visitor. Should they ask him to stay for supper? The vicar was
coming, and his pious little sister. There would be quite enough to eat.
Cold ham, potatoes and salad, with their own butter and bread--Janet made
beautiful bread--was enough for anybody in war time. Rachel was in the
mood to feel a certain childish exultation in the plenty of the farm,
amid the general rationing. The possession of her seven mi