“Yes, _the_ Roger North! It is quite all right. People always say ‘Oh,’ like that when I introduce myself. And you are the new owner of Thorpe.” “I am that enormously lucky person,” said Ruth. “Do come in, won’t you? And won’t you have some tea—or something? That sounds rather vague, but I haven’t a notion as to time.” “Capital! Is that a usual habit of yours, or only this once?” asked this somewhat strange person who was _the_ Roger North. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed it, but most people seem to spend their days wondering what time it is! And I can drink tea at any moment, thanks very much. Take care of the car, Larry.” Larry jumped on the seat, stretched himself at full length and became a dog of stone. “The car belonged to his master,” explained Roger North, as they went up the garden path. “Larry and the car both came to me when he went to France, and though the old dog has often run over here and had a hunt round, this is the first time he has not come straight back to me.” “He arrived here about six o’clock last evening,” said Ruth. “He hunted everywhere, as you say, and then lay down and watched. I gather he spent the night in the spare room, but this morning he had disappeared, and I only found him again half an hour ago down by the stream. Quite happy apparently with a man. I don’t know who the man is. He was lying by the stream watching some kingfishers, and then your car startled us all, and I can’t think where he disappeared to.” North shook his head. “I don’t know who it could have been. All the men Larry knew here left long ago, and he doesn’t make friends readily.” The path to the house was a real cottage-garden path, bordered thickly with old-fashioned flowers, flowers which must have grown undisturbed for many a long year, only thinned out, or added to, with the forethought born of love. Memories thronged North’s mind as he looked. He wondered what demon had induced him to come in, to accept tea. It was unlike him. But to his relief the new owner of Thorpe made no attempt at small talk. Indeed, she left his side, and gathered a bunch of the pinks, whose fragrance went up like evening incense to Heaven, leaving him to walk alone. For Ruth Seer sensed the shadow of a great grief. It fell like a chill across the sunlight. A sense of pity filled her. Fearing the tongue of Miss McCox, which ceased not nor spared, she fetched the tea herself, out on to the red-bricked pathway, facing south, and proudly called the terrace. Sarah and Selina had somehow crowded into the visitor’s chair and fought for the largest space. “I won’t apologize,” said Ruth. “That means you are a real dog lover.” He laughed. “My wife says because they cannot answer me! How did the little ladies take Larry’s intrusion?” “They seemed to know he had the greater right.” North dropped a light kiss on each black head. “Bless you!” he said.