It was incredible. Yet it had happened. Before his eyes. A vulgar brawl; a woman with a red face throwing things. And he was here in the house with her. He might have to try to talk with her. He considered again the possibility of slipping out. But that butler had taken his name up. Cicely would be coming down any moment. Unless she knew. Did she know? Had she heard? Possibly not. Henry got slowly, indecisively up and wandered to the piano; stood leaning on it. His eyes filled. All at once, in his mind's eye, he could see Cicely. Particularly the sensitive mouth. And the alert brown eyes. And the pretty way her eyebrows moved when she spoke or smiled or listened--always with a flattering attention--to what you were saying. He brought a clenched fist down softly on the piano. 3 'Oh,' cried the voice of Cicely--'there you are! How nice of you to come!' She was standing--for a moment--in the doorway. White of face, eyes burning, his fist still poised on the piano, he stared at her. She didn't know! Surely she didn't--not with that bright smile. __ She wore the informal, girlish costume of the moment--neatly fitting dark skirt; simple shirt-waist with the ballooning sleeves that were then necessary; stiff boyish linen collar propping the chin high, and little bow tie; darkish, crisply waving hair brought into the best order possible, parted in the middle and carried around and down over the ears to a knot low on the neck. 'I brought some candy,' he cried fiercely. 'There! On the table!' She knit her brows for a brief moment. Then opened the box. 'How awfully nice of you... You'll have some?' 'No. I don't eat candy. I was thinking of--I want to get you out--Come on, let's take a walk!' She smiled a little, around a chocolate. Surely she didn't know! She had seemed, during her first days in Sunbury, rather timid at times. But there was in this smile more than a touch of healthy self-confidence. No girl, indeed, could find herself making so definite a success as Cicely had made here from her first day without acquiring at least the beginnings of self-confidence. It was a success that had forced Elbow Jenkins and Herb de Casselles to ignore small rebuffs and persist in fighting over her. It permitted her, even in a village where social conformity was the breath of life, to do odd, unexpected things. Such as allowing herself to be interested, frankly, in Henry Calverly. So she smiled as she nibbled a chocolate. He said it again, breathlessly:-- 'I was thinking of asking you to take a walk.' 'Well'--still that smile--'why don't you?' But he was still in a daze, and pressed stupidly on. 'It's a fine evening. And the moon'll be coming up.' 'I'll get my sweater,' she said quietly, and went out to the hall.