o love once--you."

"Indeed! You're coming on! Oh! Look! There's the chalk-pit; we can't be
very far now. Let's run."

Jon followed, wondering fearfully if he had offended her.

The chalk-pit was full of sunshine 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 Mapledurham. 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 w