"Believe me, dear Mrs. Uniacke, I am more grieved than I can express..." the letter became personal, dealing with the break in their friendship, begged humbly for forgiveness and craved a "final interview" at Brighton, where he awaited her answer. Luckily for the young man's object, his apology had been well timed, arriving at Worthing late one evening at the close of a stormy family scene. Mrs. Uniacke's displeasure had fallen heavily on Jill. For Roddy, at last, had summoned courage to approach his mother on the subject of the profession to which he aspired; to be met with immediate opposition, rendered more galling by contempt. "Become an Artist!" The soldier's widow stared at the boy's excited face. "Whoever heard of such nonsense? You'll go to Sandhurst if I can afford it--that was what your father planned." Jill had plunged into the fray, backing up the youthful rebel, had lost her temper and spoken strongly, stirred by her own College traditions, on the liberty due to the new generation. Mrs. Uniacke, whose strength did not lie in argument, claimed that until he came of age Roddy owed her unswerving obedience. Jill had actually laughed at this. "You can't expect it--not on a subject as serious as his whole future. He's a human being--just like you!--Why can't he have a voice in the matter? He's not fitted for a soldier--he's an artist to his finger tips. Well!--you can try and send him to Sandhurst but you can't _make_ him pass his Exams!" Roddy, white lipped and deeply hurt, had caught his sister's eye and chuckled. "That's a sound idea," he said. "Thank you, Jill--I won't forget." At this point Mrs. Uniacke had fallen back on her last resource--tears; and, her handkerchief to her eyes, had ordered her children up to bed. "Just as if we still wore socks!" Jill, rebellious, had whispered as they climbed up the dingy stairs of the tiny furnished house by the sea. "Never mind, old boy--you _shan't_ be a soldier. I'll see to that. In a few years' time I'll have my money that Father left me. She can't touch that! I believe Aunt Elizabeth would help if it came to a pinch..." she broke off as "Rat-tat"--down below came the postman's knock. She leaned over the banisters and called to the servant in the hall. "Anything for me, Ada?" "No, miss--one for your mother." A shadow fell across Jill's face. She longed for a letter from McTaggart, now staying with the Leasons. Then she smiled back at her brother. "Let's hope it's not from Stephen!" "Pity she doesn't make _him_ a soldier. He'd get the V.C.----" said the boy. At this they both laughed aloud. Mrs. Uniacke, in the drawing-room, heard the sound and hardened her heart. With trembling fingers she tore the envelope open and hastily read the contents. She had quarrelled with Stephen on Jill's behalf ... The simple fact in her present mood was magnified into sacrifice of her own happiness for her daughter.