"The only thing I can remember at all about my father is seeing him get into rages like that with my mother. I can remember him quite well, at all sorts of times; he was very big and fair, and splendid, but always everything I remember ends in that. And I can remember getting in a rage when I was quite little and seeing my mother turn white, and she jumped up and ran out of the room crying out to Renata. My father was killed hunting when I was six years old and mother died when I was nine years old. Renata was married then, you know, so I came to live with her and Nevil. But always I remembered when I was naughty like that, my mother used to look frightened and go away and our old nurse used to come and scold me and watch me till I could have killed her. Renata, darling Renata, used to talk to me after and make me promise to try and be good, but she, too, was really afraid when I was bad. I suppose they had both had so bad a time with father." She stopped, gazing out at a misty half-understood tragedy, whose very dimness woke a faint echo of terror in her heart, for she was as surely the daughter of the woman who had suffered as of the man who had caused the suffering. "That's all," said Patricia, with a sudden movement, "everyone always takes it as part of me. Nevil says I'll outgrow it. I don't--and Renata cries." "And I scold you. Anyhow, it isn't part of you in my eyes, but just a beastly sort of thing which you let get hold of you, and then it isn't you at all. It's all rot inheriting things, though of course, if you _think_ so----" this young philosopher on the much-debated subject shrugged his shoulders. "But I don't think so, I don't want to think so," cried poor Patricia; "it's just because you don't think it that you made me feel I can stop it. Oh, Christopher, go on believing I can help it, please." "But I do. Of course I do. It's a beastly shame anyone ever suggested anything else to you. Come along home, Patricia, it will be tea-time." This was the establishing of a covenant between the two. Whether it was from the suggestion or the dominant will of the boy himself, or both causes combined, Patricia began to gather strength against her terrible inheritance and, at all events in Christopher's presence, actually did gain some show of control over her fits of passion. The first of these times, about six months after the covenant on the barrow, Nevil was present. Renata and one of the children had been there also, but Renata had seen the queer pallor creep up in her sister's face before even Christopher had guessed and had straightway hurried off with Master Max, a proceeding which usually precipitated events. Then Christopher flung down his work and caught her clenched hand in his. "Stop it, Patricia," he said imperiously.