her go about fancying. . . . Come to lunch!
I'll be in time for one meal," she cried, seizing his arm and hurrying
him the length of the echoing refectory.

At luncheon and recurrently through the afternoon Barbara wondered how
far Deganway's gossiping tongue had already prejudiced her relations
with Eric. If he heard that they were being discussed, he would in all
probability strike an attitude and declare that he could not be a party
to compromising her any longer. At present he was too novel a
distraction for her to spare him easily; already he had become so
important to her life that she had forgotten George Oakleigh and the
thrill of gratitude and elation which she had felt when he began
sluggishly but surely to fall in love with her.

The house-party had dispersed before she came down next day. Breakfast
in bed was a dull meal, because she had hoped to find an unsolicited
letter from Eric--about anything. She had to wait until the second post,
and that only brought her the briefest possible acceptance of her
invitation. Not until Tuesday did she receive the long letter which he
had written on Saturday night. And the intimacy and tenderness of it
were half spoiled even then, for Lady Crawleigh followed her maid into
the room, enquired affectionately how Barbara was feeling and settled
down to read instructive extracts from _The Times_.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Crawleigh Abbey seemed suddenly very big
and deserted. Barbara secured a trunk call to Eric's flat on Monday
night; but, after twenty minutes to wonder why she shewed so little
pride and whether he would be angry with her, a faint voice answered
that Mr. Lane was dining out. Something which she could not analyze told
her that she would be taking an unfair risk with his affection, if she
tried to communicate with him again. She could hardly understand why she
was staying in bed and taking so great care of herself; but it was
Eric's wish, and she had felt a leap at the heart when he interested
himself in her welfare. If he only knew, it would do her much more good
to be with him, to tease him and laugh at him and set him attitudinizing
and then to charm a word or gesture of affection from him . . . and then
to laugh at him again and see him perplexed and exasperated. She was
very grateful to him for bringing a new interest into her life. . . .

Little Val Arden had once said, years before the war, that she would
find her greatest emotion on the day whe