"What are you doing there, Mrs. Denys?" he said. "Why don't you come inside?" He opened the gate for her, and took her parcels without waiting for a reply. And Avery, still with her umbrella poised against the blast, smiled her thanks and passed in. The hair grew far back on Tudor's forehead, it was in fact becoming scanty on the top of his head; and the raindrops glistened upon it as he entered behind Avery. He wiped them away, and then took off his glasses and wiped them also. "Come into the dining-room!" he said. "You are just in time to join me at tea." "You're very kind," Avery said. "But I ought to hurry back the moment the rain lessens." "It won't lessen yet," said Tudor. "Take off your mackintosh, won't you? I expect your feet are wet. There's a fire to dry them by." Certainly the storm showed no signs of abating. The sky was growing darker every instant. Avery slipped the streaming mackintosh from her shoulders and entered the room into which he had invited her. The blaze on the hearth was cheering after the icy gale without. She went to it, stretching her numbed hands to the warmth. Tudor pushed forward a chair. "I believe you are chilled to the bone," he said. She laughed at that. "Oh no, indeed I am not! But it is a cold wind, isn't it? Have you finished your work for to-day?" Tudor foraged in a cupboard for an extra cup and saucer. "No. I've got to go out again later. I've just come back from Miss Whalley's. She's got a touch of jaundice." "Oh, poor thing!" said Avery. "Yes; poor thing!" echoed Tudor grimly. "She is very sorry for herself, I can assure you; but as full of gossip as ever." He paused. Avery, with her face to the fire, laughed a little. "Anything new?" "Miss Whalley," said Tudor deliberately, "always gets hold of something new. Never noticed that?" "Wouldn't you like me to pour out?" suggested Avery. "No. You keep your feet on the fender. Do you want to hear the latest tittle-tattle--or not?" There was a wary gleam behind Tudor's glasses; but Avery did not turn her eyes from the fire. A curious little feeling of uneasiness possessed her, a sensation that scarcely amounted to dread yet which quickened the beating of her heart in a fashion that she found vaguely disconcerting. "Don't tell me anything ugly!" she said gently, still not looking at him. Tudor uttered a short laugh. "There's nothing especially venomous about it that I can see." He lifted the teapot and began to pour. "Have you heard from young Evesham lately?" The question was casually uttered; but Avery's hands made a slight involuntary movement over the fire towards which she leaned. "No," she said. At the same moment the cup that Tudor was filling overflowed, and he whispered something under his breath and set down the tea-pot. Avery turned towards him instinctively, to see him dabbing the table with his handkerchief. "It's almost too dark to see what one is doing," he said.