easure merely,--pleasure
for herself, change after the long monotony, and pleasure to her child
who had never known anything but that monotony. It was not, this little
epoch of time only three weeks long, to count for anything. It was
to be a holiday and no more. And lo! with that inexplicableness, that
unforeseenness which is so curious a quality of human life, it had
become a turning point of existence, the pivot perhaps upon which
Chatty's being might hang. Mrs. Warrender was not so decided as Chatty.
She saw nothing final in the parting. She was able to imagine that
secondary causes, something about money, some family arrangements that
would have to be made, had prevented any further step on Dick's part.
To her the drama indeed was not ended: the curtain had only fallen
legitimately upon the first act without prejudice to those which were to
follow. She did not talk, for Chatty's silence, her unusual dignity, her
retirement into herself, had produced a great effect upon her mother;
but her mind was not moved as Chatty's was, and she was able to think
with pleasure of the new home awaiting them, and of what they were to find
there. The Eustace Thynnes! she said to herself, with a laugh, thanking
Providence within herself that there had been no Minnie to inspect the
progress of the relations between Dick and Chatty, and probably to deliver
her opinion very freely on that subject and on her mother's responsibility.
Then there was the more serious chapter of Theo and his affairs which
must have progressed in the meantime. Mrs. Warrender caught herself up
with a little fright as she thought of the agitation and doubt which
wrapped the future of both her children. It was a wonderful relief to
turn to the only point from which there was any amusement to be had, the
visit of the Eustace Thynnes.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

The return of the Warrenders to their home was not the usual calm
delight of settling again into one's well-known place. The house at
Highcombe was altogether new to their experiences, and meant a life in
every way different, as well as different surroundings. It was a tall
red brick house, with a flight of steps up to the door, and lines of
small, straight, twinkling windows facing immediately into the street,
between which and the house there was no interval even of a grass plot
or area. The garden extended to the right with a long stretch of high
wall, but the house had been built at a period when peopl