n I was your age. There's a 'To-morrow we die' feeling. That's
what old George meant about my Uncle Soames. He doesn't mean to die
to-morrow."

Jon said, quickly: "What's the matter between him and my father?"

"Stable secret, Jon. Take my advice, and bottle up. You'll do no good by
knowing. Have a liqueur?"

Jon shook his head.

"I hate the way people keep things from one," he muttered, "and then
sneer at one for being green."

"Well, you can ask Holly. If she won't tell you, you'll believe it's for
your own good, I suppose."

Jon got up. "I must go now; thanks awfully for the lunch."

Val smiled up at him half-sorry, and yet amused. The boy looked so
upset.

"All right! See you on Friday."

"I don't know," murmured Jon.

And he did not. This conspiracy of silence made him desperate. It was
humiliating to be treated like a child! He retraced his moody steps
to Stratton Street. But he would go to her Club now, and find out the
worst! To his enquiry the reply was that Miss Forsyte was not in the
Club. She might be in perhaps later. She was often in on Monday--they
could not say. Jon said he would call again, and, crossing into the
Green Park, flung himself down under a tree. The sun was bright, and a
breeze fluttered the leaves of the young lime-tree beneath which he lay;
but his heart ached. Such darkness seemed gathered round his happiness.
He heard Big Ben chime "Three" above the traffic. The sound moved
something in him, and, taking out a piece of paper, he began to scribble
on it with a pencil. He had jotted a stanza, and was searching the grass
for another verse, when something hard touched his shoulder-a green
parasol. There above him stood Fleur!

"They told me you'd been, and were coming back. So I thought you might
be out here; and you are--it's rather wonderful!"

"Oh, Fleur! I thought you'd have forgotten me."

"When I told you that I shouldn't!"

Jon seized her arm.

"It's too much luck! Let's get away from this side." He almost dragged
her on through that too thoughtfully regulated Park, to find some cover
where they could sit and hold each other's hands.

"Hasn't anybody cut in?" he said, gazing round at her lashes, in
suspense above her cheeks.

"There is a young idiot, but he doesn't count."

Jon felt a twitch of compassion for the-young idiot.

"You know I've had sunstroke; I didn't tell you."

"Really! Was it interesting?"

"No. Mother was an angel. Has anything happened to