down my cup, "may I see Chris?" She had not a doubt of the enterprise.
I took her into the drawing-room and opened one of the French windows.
"Go past the cedars to the pond," I told her. "He is rowing there."
"That is nice," she said. "He always looks so lovely in a boat."
I called after her, trying to hint the possibility of a panic breakdown to their meeting:
"You'll find he's altered—"
She cried gleefully:
"Oh, I shall know him."
As I went up-stairs I became aware that I was near to a bodily collapse; I suppose the truth is that I was physically so jealous of Margaret that it was making me ill. But suddenly, like a tired person dropping a weight that they know to be precious, but cannot carry for another minute, my mind refused to consider the situation any longer and turned to the
