They had come up on to the flagged terrace. Anne looked round her. "Where's Jerrold?" she said. And they laughed again. "There's no doubt," said Uncle Robert, "about it being the same Anne." ii A day passed. John Severn had come. He was to stay with the Fieldings for the last weeks of his leave. He had followed Adeline from the hot terrace to the cool library. When she wanted the sun again he would follow her out. Robert and Colin were down at the Manor Farm. Eliot was in the schoolroom, reading. Jerrold and Anne sat together on the grass under the beech trees, alone. They had got over the shock of the first encounter, when they met at arms' length, not kissing, but each remembering, shyly, that they used to kiss. If they had not got over the "difference," the change of Anne from a child to a big girl, of Jerrold from a big boy to a man's height and a man's voice, it was because, in some obscure way, that difference fascinated them. The great thing was that underneath it they were both, as Anne said, "the same." "I don't know what I'd have done, Jerrold, if you hadn't been." "You might have known I would be." "I did know." "I say, what a thundering lot of hair you've got. I like it." "Do you like what Auntie Adeline calls my new nose?" "Awfully." She meditated. "Jerrold, do you remember Benjy?" "Rather." "Dear Benjy... Do you know, I can hardly believe I'm here. I never thought I should come again." "But why shouldn't you?" "I don't know. Only I think every time something'll happen to prevent me. I'm afraid of being ill or dying before I can get away. And they might send me anywhere any day. It's awful to be so uncertain." "Don't think about it. You're here now." "Oh Jerrold, supposing it was the last time--" "It isn't the last time. Don't spoil it by thinking." "_You'd_ think if you were me." "I say--you don't mean they're not decent to you?" "Who, Grandmamma and Grandpapa? They're perfect darlings. So's Aunt Emily. But they're awfully old and they can't play at anything, except bridge. And it isn't the same thing at all. Besides, I don't--" She paused. It wasn't kind to the poor things to say "I don't love them the same." "Do you like us so awfully, then?" "Yes." "I'm glad you like us." They were silent. Up and down the flagged terrace above them Aunt Adeline and Uncle Robert walked together. The sound of his voice came to them, low and troubled. Anne listened, "Is anything wrong?" she said. "They've been like that for ages." "Daddy's bothered about Eliot." "Eliot?" "About his wanting to be a doctor." "Is Auntie Adeline bothered?" "No. She would be if she knew. But she doesn't think it'll happen. She never thinks anything will happen that she doesn't like. But it will. They can't keep him off it. He's been doing medicine at Cambridge because they won't let him go and do it at Bart's. It's just come out that he's been at it all the time. Working like blazes." "Why shouldn't he be a doctor if he likes?"