alling again
down her cheeks.

"Impossible," St. John repeated.

"Did he have the consolation of knowing--?" Mrs. Thornbury began very
tentatively.

But St. John made no reply. He lay back in his chair, half-seeing the
others, half-hearing what they said. He was terribly tired, and the
light and warmth, the movements of the hands, and the soft communicative
voices soothed him; they gave him a strange sense of quiet and relief.
As he sat there, motionless, this feeling of relief became a feeling
of profound happiness. Without any sense of disloyalty to Terence and
Rachel he ceased to think about either of them. The movements and the
voices seemed to draw together from different parts of the room, and to
combine themselves into a pattern before his eyes; he was content to sit
silently watching the pattern build itself up, looking at what he hardly
saw.

The game was really a good one, and Mr. Pepper and Mr. Elliot were
becoming more and more set upon the struggle. Mrs. Thornbury, seeing
that St. John did not wish to talk, resumed her knitting.

"Lightning again!" Mrs. Flushing suddenly exclaimed. A yellow light
flashed across the blue window, and for a second they saw the green
trees outside. She strode to the door, pushed it open, and stood half
out in the open air.

But the light was only the reflection of the storm which was over. The
rain had ceased, the heavy clouds were blown away, and the air was thin
and clear, although vapourish mists were being driven swiftly across the
moon. The sky was once more a deep and solemn blue, and the shape of the
earth was visible at the bottom of the air, enormous, dark, and solid,
rising into the tapering mass of the mountain, and pricked here and
there on the slopes by the tiny lights of villas. The driving air, the
drone of the trees, and the flashing light which now and again spread a
broad illumination over the earth filled Mrs. Flushing with exultation.
Her breasts rose and fell.

"Splendid! Splendid!" she muttered to herself. Then she turned back into
the hall and exclaimed in a peremptory voice, "Come outside and see,
Wilfrid; it's wonderful."

Some half-stirred; some rose; some dropped their balls of wool and began
to stoop to look for them.

"To bed--to bed," said Miss Allan.

"It was the move with your Queen that gave it away, Pepper," exclaimed
Mr. Elliot triumphantly, sweeping the pieces together and standing up.
He had won the game.

"What? Pepper beate