ine and the murmuration of bees. Fleur
flung back her hair.

"Well," she said, "in case of accidents, you may give me one kiss, Jon,"
and she pushed her cheek forward. With ecstasy he kissed that hot soft
cheek.

"Now, remember! We lost our way; and leave it to me as much as you can.
I'm going to be rather beastly to you; it's safer; try and be beastly to
me!"

Jon shook his head. "That's impossible."

"Just to please me; till five o'clock, at all events."

"Anybody will be able to see through it," said Jon gloomily.

"Well, do your best. Look! There they are! Wave your hat! Oh! you
haven't got one. Well, I'll cooee! Get a little away from me, and look
sulky."

Five minutes later, entering the house and doing his utmost to look
sulky, Jon heard her clear voice in the dining-room:

"Oh! I'm simply ravenous! He's going to be a farmer--and he loses his
way! The boy's an idiot!"

IX. GOYA

Lunch was over and Soames mounted to the picture-gallery in his house
near Mapleduram. He had what Annette called "a grief." Fleur was not
yet home. She had been expected on Wednesday; had wired that it would be
Friday; and again on Friday that it would be Sunday afternoon; and here
were her aunt, and her cousins the Cardigans, and this fellow Profond,
and everything flat as a pancake for the want of her. He stood before
his Gauguin--sorest point of his collection. He had bought the ugly
great thing with two early Matisses before the War, because there was
such a fuss about those Post-Impressionist chaps. He was wondering
whether Profond would take them off his hands--the fellow seemed not to
know what to do with his money--when he heard his sister's voice say: "I
think that's a horrid thing, Soames," and saw that Winifred had followed
him up.

"Oh! you do?" he said dryly; "I gave five hundred for it."

"Fancy! Women aren't made like that even if they are black."

Soames uttered a glum laugh. "You didn't come up to tell me that."

"No. Do you know that Jolyon's boy is staying with Val and his wife?"

Soames spun round.

"What?"

"Yes," drawled Winifred; "he's gone to live with them there while he
learns farming."

Soames had turned away, but her voice pursued him as he walked up and
down. "I warned Val that neither of them was to be spoken to about old
matters."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

Winifred shrugged her substantial shoulders.

"Fleur does what she likes. You've always spoiled her. Besides,