he said, with a catch in her voice, "of my dear
husband's work. You must forgive me. I'm sure you've done everything
that was right and good, Jaffery." She held out the great bundle and
smiled. "I pass the proofs."

Jaffery took the bundle and laid it again on her lap. "It's awfully good
of you to say that. I appreciate it tremendously. But you can keep this
set. I've got another, with the corrections in duplicate."

She looked at the proofs wistfully, turned over the long strips in a
timid, reverent way, and abruptly handed them back.

"I can't read it. I daren't read it. If Adrian had lived I shouldn't
have seen it before it was published. He would have given me the finally
bound book--an advance copy. These things--you know--it's the same to me
as if he were living."

The tears started. She rose; and we all did the same.

"I must go indoors for a little. No, no, Barbara dear. I'd rather be
alone." She put her arm round my small daughter. "Perhaps Susan will see
I don't break my neck across the lawn."

Her voice ended in a queer little sob, and holding on to Susan, who was
mighty proud of being selected as an escort, walked slowly towards the
house. Susan afterwards reported that, dismissed at the bedroom door,
she had lingered for a moment outside and had heard Auntie Doria crying
like anything.

Barbara, who had said absolutely nothing since the miraculous draught of
proofs, advanced, a female David, up to Goliath Jaffery.

"Look here, my friend, I'm not accustomed to sit still like a graven
image and be mystified in my own house. Will you have the goodness to
explain?"

Jaffery looked down on her, his head on one side.

"Explain what?"

"That!"

She pointed to the proofs of which I had possessed myself and was
eagerly scanning. Unblenching he met her gaze.

"That is the posthumous novel of Adrian Boldero, which I, as his
literary executor, have revised for the press. Hilary saw the rough
manuscript, but he had no time to read it."

They looked at one another for quite a long time.

"Is that all you're going to tell me?"

"That's all."

"And all you're going to tell Hilary?"

"Telling Hilary is the same as telling you."

"Naturally."

"And telling you is the same as telling Hilary."

"By no manner of means," said Barbara tartly. She took him by the
sleeve. "Come and explain."

"I've explained already," said Jaffery.

Barbara eyed him like a syren of the cornfields. "I'm going to dress