'"A person like that"--how dreadfully old-fashioned you are, Alice! She's a lady; she's much more highly educated than you or I, and if she gets her way, she'll perhaps keep father out of some of the scrapes he seems bent on. You know this business of the park is perfectly mad!' For the first time in this conversation Margaret Strang's face was grave. And when it was grave, some people would have called it fine. 'And just think what it'll cost,' said Mrs. Gaddesden despondently, 'even if he had a case--which he probably hasn't--and if he were to win it. There'll be no money left for Aubrey or any of us soon.' 'But of course he hasn't a case, and of course he can't win!' cried Margaret Strang. 'It's not that I care about--or the money--it's the disgrace!' 'Yes,' murmured Alice doubtfully. 'When you think--' Mrs. Strang paused; her bright blue eyes, alive with thoughts, were fixed absently on her sister. She seemed to see a number of shabby streets, where she was accustomed to work, with little shabby shops, and placards on them--'No butter,' 'No milk,' and apples marked 4d. each. 'Think what?' said Alice. Mrs. Strang's mind returned to Alice, and Alice's very elaborate and becoming _negligée_. 'Only that, in my opinion, it's the duty of every landowner to produce every ounce of food he can, and to do what he's told! And father not only sets a shocking example, but he picks this absurd quarrel with the Chicksands. What on earth is Aubrey to do? Or poor Beryl?' 'Well, he comes to-night,' said Alice, 'so I suppose we shall hear. I can't make Aubrey out,' she added reflectively. 'Nobody can. I was talking to a brother-officer of his last week, a man who's awfully fond of him. He told me Aubrey did his work very well. He was complimented by Headquarters on his School only last month. But he's like an automaton. Nobody really knows him, nobody gets any forwarder with him. He hardly speaks to anybody except on business. The mess regard him as a wet blanket, and his men don't care about him, though he's a capital officer. Isn't it strange, when one thinks of what Aubrey used to be five years ago?' Alice agreed. Perhaps he was still suffering from the effects of his wound in 1915. 'Anyway he can't give Beryl up,' said Margaret with energy, 'if he's a man of honour!' Alice shrugged her shoulders. 'Then he'll give up the estate, according to father.' 'Desmond would give it back to him, if there's anything left of it, or if he wants it.' 'Margaret!' 'You think I don't care about the family--that there should always be a Mannering of Mannering? Yes, I do care, but there are so many other things now to care about,' added Mrs. Strang slowly. 'Who's making me late now?' said Alice, looking at her watch. Margaret took the hint and departed. * * * * * That same evening, in the September dusk, a dog-cart arrived at the Hall, bringing Major Mannering and a Gladstone bag.