more, you understand? Perhaps I'll
make my meaning clearer when I tell you that I was the only man in Egypt
who knew her who wasn't in love with her."

He saw her face change and, rather piqued, he asked: "Did you think I
was?"

"I thought that you and she were great friends--"

"Well, so we are in a way. I saw a great deal of her in London."

"And you went straight off to see her the moment you arrived here."

"Well, perhaps I was foolish to do that."

What an odd admission to make. He certainly had changed amazingly in the
last nine years!

Then it was Janet who surprised him: "Don't make any mistake," she said
quickly. "There's no reason in the world why you shouldn't marry Mrs.
Crofton--after a decent interval has elapsed. All I meant to say--and
I'd rather say it right out now--is that as most people know that her
husband hasn't been dead more than a few weeks, you ought to be rather
careful, all the more careful if--if your friendship should come to
anything, Godfrey."

"But it won't!" he exclaimed, with a touch of the old heat, "indeed it
won't, Janet. To tell you the truth, I don't think I shall ever marry."

"_I_ certainly shouldn't if I were a rich bachelor," she said laughing;
and yet somehow what he had just said hurt her.

As for Radmore, he felt just a little jarred by her words. Had she quite
forgotten all that had happened in that long ago which, in a sense,
seemed to belong to another life? He hadn't, and since his arrival
yesterday certain things had come back in a rushing flood of memory.

"I've something to do in the garden now." Janet was smiling--she really
did feel perhaps rather absurdly relieved. Like Timmy, she didn't care
for Mrs. Crofton, and the mere suspicion that Godfrey Radmore had come
back here to Old Place in order to carry on a love affair had disturbed
her.

"By the way, how's McPherson?" he asked abruptly. "He _is_ a splendid
gardener and no mistake! I've never seen a garden looking more beautiful
than yours does just now, Janet. I woke early this morning and looked
out of my window. I suppose McPherson's about--I'll go out and speak to
him."

Her face shadowed. "McPherson," she said slowly, "was one of the first
men to leave Beechfield. He was perfectly fit, and he made up his mind to
go at once. You know, Godfrey--or perhaps you don't know--that the Scotch
glens emptied first of men?"

"D'you mean...?"

She nodded. "He was killed at the second battle of Ypres.