spise the morality of the people
of Ballymoy.

"The Major?" she said. "You've mentioned him once or twice. What sort
of man is he? Does my work shock him?"

"I expect it does," said Meldon. "I haven't seen him for some time,
and so we haven't discussed you. But from what I know of him I should
say that your work, as you call it, will shock him frightfully. You
can't altogether blame him. He's a bachelor, and has very strict ideas
about a wife's duty to her husband."

Miss King was moved by a desire to startle Meldon. She was really
engaged on quite an innocent novel, but she chose to pretend that she
was going on in her old way.

"What will he say," she said, "when he finds out that I'm going on with
my work under his very eyes, so to speak, in Ballymoy?"

Meldon sat up suddenly.

"You don't mean that? Surely you can't intend--"

"Now you're shocked," said Miss King, "and you said you wouldn't be."

"I am a little. I didn't think I could be. But I am. I never
imagined--"

"But that's exactly what I'm going to Ballymoy for. I want complete
quiet in a lonely place where I shan't be disturbed."

"Of course, it's no business of mine," said Meldon. "But don't you
think that perhaps you've done enough?"

"No. I have a great deal to do yet. If it were simply a question of
earning money--"

Meldon looked at her. She was very well dressed. The bag which lay
open at her side was fitted with silver-topped bottles. Her cigarette
case appeared to be of gold. She was travelling first class. She had
taken Ballymoy House for two months. He was quite ready to believe
that she did not want money.

"Do you mean to say that you're doing it simply for amusement?" he
asked.

"No. Not amusement." Her voice dropped to a kind of solemn whisper.
"For the love of my art."

Miss King took herself very seriously indeed, and was accustomed to
talk a good deal about her art. Literary people who might have known
better, and critics who certainly did know better, encouraged her.
They also talked about her art.

"Of course, if you look at it that way," said Meldon, "there's no more
to be said; but you mustn't expect me to help you."

"You!"

"No. As a clergyman I can't possibly do it. Nor will the Major,
unless he's greatly changed. I don't expect Doyle will either. He's
president of the local branch of the League, but I'm sure he draws the
line at--"

"But I don't want any of you to help me. Why