There was nothing really alarming about Mr. Lavender's smile. Melisande had encountered many such smiles and she knew that they indicated admiration. She was merely startled.

"G ... good afternoon," she said.

Mr. Lavender bowed. She noticed how the quiff of yellow hair fell over his brow; she saw the gleam of a diamond tiepin, the ring on his finger, the nattily cut coat and the brilliant waistcoat; she could smell the violet hair pomade.

"This is a pleasure," he said. "You must be my wife's new maid."

"Yes."

To her astonishment, he approached and held out his hand. He took hers and held it, patting it with his olher. "I see," he said, "that we are in luck this time."

"It is kind of you to say so." Melisande withdrew her hand.

"My word, you're a pretty girl—if you don't mind the compliment."

"I do not mind. Thank you."

"You're really French, I hear. Why, you and I will get on like a house afire, I can see."

She remembered then Fenella's advice: When she did not know how to respond, to indicate that she did not understand the finer meanings of the English language.

"A house afire? That sounds dangerous."

He laughed, throwing back his quiff as he did so. She saw the flash of his teeth.

"Do you like it here?" he asked solicitously.

"Thank you. It is a kind enquiry."

"You're a charming girl—too pretty to be working for other women."

She was glad that the door leading to the bedroom had opened.

"Archie!" said Mrs. Lavender.

"My love!"

He went to her and embraced her. Melisande, glancing over her shoulder, saw that Mrs. Lavender's face had softened to that expression which Melisande had wished for it.

"You should have said you were coming home," said Mrs. Lavender.

"Thought I'd surprise you. Thought that's what you'd like. You wait till you see what I've brought for you."

"Really, Archie! You're an angel!"

"No, Mrs. L. You're the one who should be sprouting the wings."

Mrs. Lavender said: "You may go, Martin."

"Thank you," said Melisande, in great relief.

She noticed that Archibald Lavender did not give her a single glance as she hurried out.

She went to the small attic room which was hers and shut the door. She felt now as though she were waking out of her daze. What had she done? she asked herself. She had run away from Fenella's, and whatever Fenella was, she had been kind. In Fenella's house, for all its voluptuous mystery, there was a feeling of safety. Here ... there was no safety. She knew that. She sensed danger ... "like a house afire." She had little money. She knew that the notice Mr. Lavender had implied he would bestow on her would annoy Mrs. Lavender more than any incompetence. She was afraid suddenly, for it seemed that the world into which she had escaped was full of a hundred dangers from which Fenella had protected her.

She was only eighteen. It was so very young. Too much had happened in too short a time.

She longed to go back to Mrs. Chubb's, to live for ever in that cosy cottage. But how could she? To become a lodger there she needed money. Moreover Ellen had found this job, and Ellen and Mrs. Chubb would expect her to keep it.

She wanted .her bedroom at Fenella's; she wanted the light-hearted chatter of Genevra, the worldly wisdom of Clotilde, the oddly maternal solicitude of Polly and Fenella. She wanted Fermor.

She had run away because she was afraid; and now she was alone in a world full of new dangers.

She went down to Mrs. Gunter for comfort.

"So he's back," said Mrs. Gunter. "Now she'll be sweeter. I reckon he's brought her a lovely piece of jewellery. She'll be so pleased he's thought of her that she won't mind paying the bill when it comes. I bet he's telling her some tale about how he had to stay away on business and how he hated leaving her. Well, it pleases her and she likes to think that one day he's going to be a great business man with money of his own. Did you see him?"

"Yes, I did," said Melisande.

Mrs. Gunter looked at her sharply. "I can see you're a sensible girl," she said.

"I wish he had not come back."

"I daresay he said you were pretty and you and him would get on like a house afire."

"How did you know?"

"He's got his set pieces, and we've had pretty girls here before. I'll tell you something: He's a coward and dead scared of her." Mrs. Gunter pushed Melisande. "Just threaten him with her. That's what you'll have to do if he worries you."

Melisande went to Mrs. Gunter then and laying her head on her shoulder put her arms about her. "It was so pretty-like," said Mrs. Gunter later; "and then I saw she was crying quiet-like. She looked different after that. The quietness seemed to have gone out of her. When she stood back she was like a different person. I never saw her eyes flash so before. Beautiful they looked. And I thought: 'Hello! Here's a side we don't know about yet. I reckon Mr. L. will get slapped if he goes too far!' "

"Martin," said Mrs. Lavender, "do you play whist?"

"A little, Madam."

"Then you shall join us ... after dinner. Mrs. Greenacre cannot be with us."

"Oh ..." began Melisande.

"You need not be afraid. We shall not expect you to dress. I shall explain to our guest who you are. Nothing will be expected of you but to play your hand."

"But ..."

"You'll do as you're asked, of course."

Melisande went to her room to wash. She always locked the door whenever she went in. She had done so since Mr. Lavender had knocked one evening to ask how she was. He had fancied she looked tired, he had said. It had been difficult to keep him on the right side of the door; but she had done so with quiet dignity and great determination.

After that she always turned the key in the lock and, if there should be a knock, asked who was there before opening the door.

She washed thoughtfully and combed her hair.

She had been three weeks with the Lavenders; that meant it was nine weeks since that day when she had walked out of Fenella's house. She wondered whether they had tried to find her. Fenella would have been so hurt; so would Polly. As for her father, he would probably be glad, for now that she had run away she had solved his problem for him. He could not blame himself for what happened to an illegitimate daughter who spurned his care and refused to marry the very respectable young lawyer whom he had provided for her. Genevra ? Clotilde ? They would not care deeply. She had been but the companion of a few weeks in their eventful lives.

She had to forget what had happened. She had been reading the papers every day since the accident. Surely if Caroline had died she would have seen some notice to this effect. She had never asked Fermor where he and Caroline lived, but it should not be insuperably difficult to find out. But if she did and went to the house to enquire of the servants, she might meet Fermor or Caroline and that was what she must avoid.

She heard a carriage draw up outside the house. This would be to-night's guest. She went to the window and looked down. She could not see very clearly the person who stepped from the carriage, but she did see that it was a man who appeared to be about Mr. Lavender's age.

She was glad that she did not have to join them at dinner. She was indeed not looking forward to the evening at all. Mrs. Lavender would be rude to her, she was sure, and she was beginning to resent such treatment.

Now, when the woman bullied her, retorts rose to her lips. Surely that was a sign that she was growing away from her nightmares and was feeling a stirring of interest in her new life.

She was wearing the black and green dress bought in Paris. It was less fashionable now, and she had worn it scarcely at all while she was at Fenella's. While she was at Mrs. Chubb's she had bought herself two cheap gowns for daily wear—one lilac colour, the other grey.

She combed her hair and parted it in the centre so that it fell in ringlets over her shoulders.

She was feeling nervous when the summons came for her to go to the drawing-room.

"This is my maid, Martin, Mr. Randall. I have sent for her to make a fourth at whist. So tiresome that Mrs. Greenacre could not come."

He rose and, taking Melisande's hand, bowed over it.

He was tall and handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes; Melisande liked him at once because his smile was sympathetic with no hint of patronage in it.

"I am afraid," said Melisande, "that I shall be a poor player. I have played very little."

The young man—who now seemed younger than Mr. Lavender —smiled again. "I am sure Mr. Lavender and I will forgive you if you trump our aces ... eh, Archibald?"

Archibald mumbled that he was not sure about that. He was very cautious under the eye of Mrs. Lavender; but, when he was sure she was not watching him, he smiled at Melisande in a manner to indicate that he did not mean what he said.

"You may put up the card table, Martin," said Mrs. Lavender.

Mr. Randall helped her to do this.

"There is no need for you to trouble," said Mrs. Lavender. "I am sure Martin can manage."

"It is a pleasure," said Mr. Randall.

They sat round the table and the cards were dealt. Melisande blundered again and again. She had played very little at Trevenning and on those rare occasions when the cards had been brought out at Fenella's it was usually in order to tell fortunes, and when whist was played it was never seriously.

She apologized nervously. "I'm afraid Fm not very good ..."

Mrs. Lavender said with a short laugh: "You are right there, Martin. I'm glad you're not my partner."

Mr. Randall, whose partner Melisande was, hurried to defend her. "I'm not at all sure that was not finesse, Mrs. Lavender. Not sure at all. You wait and see."

It was very good of him, Melisande thought; she was aware that he was guiding her, seeking all the time to cover up her mistakes.

When Sarah brought in tea and biscuits for refreshment, which, Mrs. Lavender prided herself, was so fashionable, she told Melisande to pour out.

"Why," said Mrs. Lavender, scrutinizing the tray. "Sarah has brought four cups."

Melisande felt suddenly angry. It was because—she realized afterwards—Mr. Randall with his quiet consideration had restored her self-respect. Her spirits were reviving. She would not endure further insults. If necessary she would leave Mrs. Lavender and find someone else who needed a lady's maid.

"You need have no fear, Mrs. Lavender," she said quietly but deliberately, "I did not intend to pour tea for myself. I quite understand that I was ordered to attend merely because a guest failed to appear. I have no more wish to drink tea with you than you have to see me do so."

Mrs. Lavender gasped. Melisande, with trembling hands, poured the tea and handed it round.

Both men were watching her, Mr. Lavender uneasily, Mr. Randall admiringly. In Mrs. Lavender's cheeks two spots of colour burned.

She was unsure how to act. Her first impulse was to tell Melisande to go and pack her bag; but she did not want to lose her. It gave such prestige, to employ a French maid; besides the girl was clever in her way and she would be useful on occasions like this, for she was undoubtedly as well-bred as Mrs. Lavender's guests. There was satisfaction in possessing such a maid.

She said: "Mr. Randall, we must forgive Martin. She is French, you know. That means she does not always understand our English ways."

"I am sure," said Mr. Lavender, "that Martin means no harm. I am quite sure of that."

Mr. Randall looked at her with admiration and pity.

"Well," said Mrs. Lavender, "we'll overlook your behaviour, Martin. You may pour yourself tea."

"Thank you, Mrs. Lavender, but I do not wish for it."

Again there was a brief silence. Melisande became aware that she was beginning to relish the situation. She had a feeling of glorious indifference to consequences. I shall be dismissed, she thought; and I do not care. There must be many employers in the world who are no worse than Mrs. Lavender, and surely some who are much better.

"She does not like our English customs," said Mrs. Lavender. "They say the French do not drink tea as we do."

"It is not the customs I do not like," said Melisande. "It is the Martin," said Mrs. Lavender, her face now purple. "There is no need for you to remain."