Bob seemed to lift himself up. Then he fell headlong backwards, towards the pavement. His shoulders reached the gutter, and his head just made the kerb. This brought his face forward, with a click. For a moment he lay as he had fallen—as one who wishes to remain recumbent and yet, ridiculously, to regard his feet. Then his head slid slowly sideways. . . . As the crowd surged up, Ann stumbled forward and fell on her knees beside the corpse. Then she asked for water and began to loosen its tie. People were nudging one another. She knew it. She could feel their curious stares and the awkwardness of the hush that fell wherever she went. She did not care at all. This was quite different. Bob had need of her. . . . Bob . . . Two police came hastening. One was a sergeant. The crowd fell back respectfully. The sergeant fell upon one knee and flashed his lantern on the dead man’s face. “Who done this?” he cried, looking up. Again the crowd parted to reveal Joe Allen holding on to the railings with his coat-sleeve across his eyes. The sergeant addressed his subordinate. “Take ’im,” he said shortly. He drew a whistle and blew five or six short blasts. Then he turned to Ann. “Was he your friend, lady?” Ann started violently at the tense, staring open-mouthed into the sergeant’s eyes. Then she caught the groom’s head and peered at the quiet face. For a moment she held it between her palms; then very gently she suffered it to roll back into its old position. . . . Ann sank back on her heels and stared at the sky. Slowly the Morland took shape—the spreading oak and the cottage and the jolly brown horse . . . the girl standing in the doorway, holding the little boy . . . and the man on the horse, smiling . . . all alone and happy—under the spreading oak . . . very poor and simple, but very, very happy. . . . A dry sob shook Ann—the first of many. Presently the tears began to stream down her cheeks. She continued to stare steadfastly up into the sky, till the bystanders followed her gaze and tried to see something. ELEANOR ELEANOR Coffee was served. Finally, liqueurs were offered. A moment later the servants withdrew silently, leaving the quartette to their cups. The six shaded candles threw down upon the table a gentle light. This the silver and rosewood gave back vastly enriched. From a decanter before the host a fine old port rendered a comfortable glow. An onyx ash-tray and a match-box flashed by each painted plate; at either end of the table was a gold box of cigarettes; between the two men lay cigars; fruit was within reach; the board was not crowded, yet seemed to be pleasantly full; upon the sideboard were remaining champagne, water, coffee and the little group of liqueurs.