e mind was set on the immediate interview. Obviously the
drawing-room was the first place of search. He opened the drawing-room
door, the hinges and lock oily, noiseless, perfectly ordained, like
everything in the perfectly ordained English Deanery, and strode in.

His entrance was so swift, so protected from sound, that the pair had
no time to start apart before he was there, with his amazed eyes full
upon them. Peggy's hands were on Oliver's shoulders, tears were
streaming down her face, as her head was thrown back from him, and
Oliver's arm was around her. Her back was to the door. Oliver withdrew
his arm and retired a pace or two.

"Lord Almighty," he whispered, "here's Doggie!"

Then Peggy, realizing what had happened, wheeled round and stared
tragically at Doggie, who, preoccupied with the search for her, had
not removed his cap. He drew himself up.

"I beg your pardon," he said with imperturbable irony, and turned.

Oliver rushed across the room.

"Stop, you silly fool!"

He slammed the open door, caught Doggie by the arm and dragged him
away from the threshold. His blue eyes blazed and the lips beneath the
short-cropped moustache quivered.

"It's all my fault, Doggie. I'm a beast and a cad and anything you
like to call me. But for things you said last night--well--no, hang it
all, there's no excuse. Everything's on me. Peggy's as true as gold."

Peggy, red-eyed, pale-cheeked, stood a little way back, silent, on the
defensive. Doggie, looking from one to the other, said quietly:

"A triangular explanation is scarcely decent. Perhaps you might let me
have a word or two with Peggy."

"Yes. It would be best," she whispered.

"I'll be in the dining-room if you want me," said Oliver, and went
out.

Doggie took her hand and, very gently, led her to a chair.

"Let us sit down. There," said he, "now we can talk more comfortably.
First, before we touch on this situation, let me say something to you.
It may ease things."

Peggy, humiliated, did not look at him. She nodded.

"All right."

"I made up my mind this morning to sell Denby Hall and its contents.
I've given old Spooner instructions."

She glanced at him involuntarily. "Sell Denby Hall?"

"Yes, dear. You see, I have made up my mind definitely, if I'm spared,
not to live in Durdlebury after the war."

"What were you thinking of doing?" she asked, in a low voice.

"That would depend on after-war circumstances. Anyhow, I was coming to
you, w