"That is the first time I have ever seen Christina cry," said Mrs. Colebrook with melancholy satisfaction. "There's a lot more in Christina than people think. If she'd only showed a little more nice feeling over poor Mr. Sault, I'd have liked it better. But you can't expect everything in these days, girls being what they are. Well, Evie, you're the first to go. I don't suppose Christina will ever marry. She's too hard. Canada won't seem so far if I'm in Bolo, Boole--whatever they call it." Evie was sitting with her mother in the kitchen; from Christina's room came crooning. "My dear, oh my dear, Have ye come from the west--" "Why Christina sings those old-fashioned songs when she knows 'Swanee' and 'The Bull Dog Patrol'--'Bull Frog', is it?--I can't understand." A rat-tat at the door made Evie jump. Mrs. Colebrook's eyes went to the faded face of a clock on the mantelshelf. Allowing for day to day variation, to which the timepiece was subject, she made it out to be past eleven. "Don't open the door," she said. "It may be those Haggins; they've been fighting all day." Evie went to the door. "Who is there?" "Beryl Merville." Evie opened the door and admitted the girl. Outside she glimpsed the tail lamps of a car. "You are Evie, aren't you?" Beryl was breathless. "Have you any idea where I can find Ronnie?" "Is that Beryl?" It was Christina's voice; she came down in her dressing gown. "I want to find Ronnie--I have been to his flat, he is not at home. I must see him." She was wild with fear, Christina saw that; something had happened which had thrown her off her balance and had driven her, frantic, to Ronnie Morelle. "Come up to my room, Beryl," she said gently. Mrs. Colebrook looked at Evie as the sound of a closing door came down. "It looks to me like a scandal," she said profoundly. Evie said nothing. She was wondering whether she ought not to have been indignant at the suggestion that she knew the whereabouts of Ronnie Morelle. She wished she knew Beryl better--then she might have been asked upstairs to share the secret. After all, she knew Ronnie better than anybody. "Perhaps I am better out of it, Mother," she said. "I am not sure that Teddy would like me to be mixed up in other people's affairs." Christina pushed the trembling girl on to the bed. "Sit down, Beryl. What is wrong?" Beryl's lips were quivering. "I must see Ronnie--oh, Christina, I'm just cornered. That man--Talbot, I think his name is, he is a friend of Ronnie's, has written to father--the letter came by hand, marked 'Urgent', whilst daddy was out, and I opened it." She fumbled in her bag and produced a folded sheet and Christina read: "_Dear Dr. Merville_: I think it is only right that you should know that your daughter spent a night at Ronald Morelle's flat.