One morning at breakfast, Doug said unexpectedly: “Teddy, d’you remember the reason why we chucked everything and came to live here?” “Yes....” “Hasn’t it worked splendidly?” He jumped a chair which stood between them, and coming up behind her, gripped her shoulders. She twisted round to face him, smiling a little. “It’s safe to talk of a cure now, isn’t it, Teddy? Middle of August--we’ve been here four--five--let me see, end of March--four-and-a-half months. And all this time, have you had any trouble with me at all? Trouble of the old kind----?” His blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “It was a tremendous experiment, and it’s been a success. Behold the unsusceptible Douglas!” He struck a mock heroic attitude; and, glancing upwards, discovered that it was possible to swing by the hands from the thick overhead beams from which hams and joints used to dangle when the whole lower half of Grey Stone had been a kitchen. So he swung by the hands, thoroughly enjoying it. And Ursula, as a matter of habit, made everybody’s indulgent remark to him: “What a great boy you are still, Doug!” He grinned, gratified. Then, as he nearly always did, dropped from buffoonery to a gruffer and more sincere note: “I’m not proud of my--my--well, what I used to be, because I joke about it, Teddy. And I didn’t talk of it before because I wanted to be sure”--and also because he had forgotten! “Men live a hectic artificial life in towns, and their will-power gets jaded. My will-power is tremendous now....” He lunged forward with his right arm, in proof of it, and then slowly bent back the forearm, admiring his biceps. “You feel safe about me now, don’t you, Teddy old girl?” “So safe,” said Ursula, quite suddenly resolved that she would rather materialize her shadowy fear and actually cope with it on the premises, than watch its approach, wondering when, wondering how it would all happen to hurt her--“so safe, that I’m going to invite an awfully nice kid down to stay with us for a bit. No, it’s not just to test you, though, as you say, it proves that our experiment has been a success; but I’m getting fed up with my own company, with you such a lot up at the farm. Do you remember little Christine Powys, at the boarding-house? she hinted she’d love a holiday with us in Morcar--at least, she didn’t hint, she quite frankly asked, but I dared not promise it to her, then.” She selected at random the very first girl who came into her head. Christine Powys--round dark head--tomboyish ways--she would do ... or another. Whoever it was--Doug’s next romance. And Ursula’s hot searching mind craved to fix itself on one actual face and name, and banish to rest all the rivals in the realms of perhaps. One girl--all girls.... Well, Christine was one girl, the very first girl for Doug to meet, after his “cure.” Yes, Christine would do. Thus Ursula, again impatient, again played understudy to the Deity. “Christine Powys? No, I don’t remember. Where did she sit?”