There was a pause. She had thrown off her last remark with careless haste, defying you not to know about the infant; and her eyes had escaped again, as if in dread. In the pause the gulf of things never to be said yawned for a moment beneath their feet; and it was clear that Mariella at least would never breathe her husband’s name. ‘I--I was just buying some things for him,’ she said. ‘Some things Nanny wanted. But you can’t get much here....’ Her voice trailed off nervously. Then: ‘This afternoon,’ she said. ‘Good-bye till then. Don’t come too early because the boys are always dreadfully lazy after lunch.’ She smiled and went on. 3 At five o’clock Judith surprised the parlourmaid by taking off her hat in the hall, wiped her perspiring hands and announced herself. At the threshold of the sitting room she paused and gasped. The room, magnified by fear, seemed full of giants in grey flannels. Mariella detached herself from a vast crowd and floated towards her. ‘Hullo!’ she said. ‘Do you want tea? I forgot about it. We never have tea. I needn’t introduce, need I? You know every one.’ She put a light hand for a moment on Judith’s arm, and the room began to sink and settle; but the faces of the boys-next-door were nothing but a blur before her eyes as she shook hands. ‘D’you remember which is which?’ said Mariella. Now she would have to look up and answer, control this trembling, arrest this devouring blush. ‘Of course I do.’ She lifted her eyes, and saw them standing before her, smiling a trifle self-consciously. That gave her courage to smile back. ‘You’re Martin--you’re Roddy--you’re----’ she hesitated. Julian stood aloof, looking unyouthful and haughty. She finished lamely--‘Mr. F-Fyfe.’ There was a roar of laughter, a chorus of teasing voices to which, plunged once more in a welter of blushes and confusion, she could pay no heed. ‘I thought you mightn’t like--might think me--I didn’t know if--you looked as if you----’ she stammered. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sure, that you should feel the need of any such formality,’ said Julian stiffly. He too was blushing. ‘It was only his shyness,’ mocked a voice. Judith thought: ‘After all, he was always the friendly one.’ That he too should be shy restored her self-confidence, and she said looking full at him and smiling: ‘I’m sorry. Julian then.’ ‘That’s better,’ he said, still stiffly; but he smiled. Their faces had become clear to her now; but there was still a point of trouble and strangeness in the room,--the queer-looking sallow young man Roddy. Her eyes fluttered over him and went on to Martin. He smiled at her, and she took a step nearer to him. ‘Are you at Cambridge?’ she said. ‘I am.’ ‘That’s where I’m going.’ ‘Are you really?’ ‘For what purpose?’ said Roddy softly. ‘Oh, to learn. I want to learn everything about literature--English literature anyway, from the very beginning,’ she said earnestly. ‘That’s precisely what Martin’s aiming at. Isn’t it, Martin, you bookworm?’