old, in his Aunt Marjory's arms. Throughout her turbulent but
very cheerful childhood he had been her firm, if patronising, friend.
Then as she developed into what Ger had described to Eloquent as "a bit
of a gawk," he became more than ever her friend and champion. "Uncle
Hilary was so beastly down on Mary;" and Mary, though she did knock
things over and say quite extraordinarily stupid things on occasion,
was "such a good old sort."

He had never considered the question of her appearance till this
Christmas. He supposed she was good-looking--all the Ffolliots were
good-looking--but it really didn't matter much one way or another. She
was part of Redmarley, and Redmarley as a whole counted for a good deal
in Reginald Peel's life. He, too, had fallen under its mysterious
charm. The manor-house mothered him, and the little Cotswold village
cradled him in kindly keeping arms. His own mother had died when he
was seven, his father married again a couple of years later; but, as Mr
Peel was in the Indian Forest Department, and Reggie's young stepmother
a faithful and devoted wife, he saw little of either of them, except on
their somewhat infrequent leaves when they paid so many visits and had
to see so many people, that he never really got to know either them or
his half-brother and sister.

The love of Redmarley had grown with his growth till it became part of
him; so far he had looked upon Mary as merely one of the many pleasant
circumstances that went to the making of Redmarley. Now, somehow, she
seemed to have detached herself from the general design and to have
taken the centre of the picture. He was not sure that he approved of
such prominence.

She startled him that first evening when, with the others, she met him
in the hall. She was unexpected, she was different, and he hated that
anything at Redmarley should be different.

"Mary's grown up since yesterday," Uz remarked ironically, "she's like
you when you first managed to pull your moustache."

Of course Reggie suitably chastised Uz for his cheek, but all the same
there was a difference.

To be sure she still wore her skirts well above her ankles, but
nowadays quite elderly ladies wore short skirts, so that in no way
accentuated her youth; and after all was she so very young?

Mary would be eighteen on Valentine's day.

Arrayed in Elizabethan doublet and hose for Lady Campion's dance,
Reggie stood before his looking-glass and grinned at himself
sa