Dinner progressed slowly. The pheasant appeared, three small slices of breast were eaten by the three ladies, it was removed and the peach tart took its place. Mrs. Hugh, for courtesy's sake, toyed with a minute piece of pastry, Miss Dorset enjoyed a reasonable helping, but Mrs. Greene lacked the energy even to taste it. It was succeeded by a savoury, which again for courtesy's sake all three ladies made an effort to eat. At last the interminable meal was ended. A little food had been eaten, a little wine drunk, and a prolonged exhibition of fortitude and good manners had been given by Mrs. Greene, whose weakness clamoured for the easy comfort of a tray by the fire, but whose instincts and training drove her to endure the full ceremony prescribed by the laws of good society. She was very tired when they went through to the drawing-room. She sat relaxed and huddled in her armchair, stretching out her chill hands to the fire, which leaped and spluttered. "The logs are green," she said dreamily. "But I like to hear them hiss like that." "I like all country sounds and sights," answered Mrs. Hugh. "That's what you live on, Sarah, I understand very well; Lynton is what you live on from day to day; and you've got Hugh and your past for a background." There was a pause, broken presently by Mrs. Hugh who spoke quickly and jerkily in her insistency. "I find Lynton very lovely," she said. "It's to satisfying and complete. I turn over the earth and take out things and plant other things, and they grow and flower, and when they die, I plant something else. And it all goes on round and round, so that I feel quite confident that beauty renews itself even if it doesn't last, and so I'm able to be happy." Her credo ended abruptly. "We're optimists, Sarah," said Mrs. Greene. "You know, only this morning I was thinking something like that, but I don't remember now what it was. I forget things; I forget the simplest things sometimes." "Don't let that worry you," advised Mrs. Hugh, gently. "We all forget things when we're tired." "I worry when I'm tired," confided Mrs. Greene. "Everything worries me; the thought of Edith's party next week worries me. I don't feel I can face it." She relapsed into silence. In the glow of the fire her face looked pinched and wan. Suddenly it sharpened into irritation. "I must go to bed, Sarah," she said. "I'm sorry to leave you so early, but I've talked enough for to-night, and I'll see you in the morning." She stood up, tremulous and uncertain. "Miss Dorset," she called querulously, "help me to bed, Miss Dorset, I'm tired." MRS. HUGH GREENE MRS. HUGH GREENE I "What are you doing this morning, Aunt Sarah?" asked Mary Dodds on the first morning of Mrs. Hugh Greene's visit. "I have to do some shopping, but I'd love it if you would come with me." "No thank you, dear," answered Mrs. Greene. "I have an appointment at 12 o'clock, and if you'll excuse me, I won't come back to lunch."