Kitty paused long enough to look up at the new arrival and point to a branch above their heads, where a bright-blue ball had been trapped by the foliage. She gave her brother an accusing glare and then began to howl again.

"Now," said Anne, "if I promise to climb up for the ball, and if Davie promises to say he is sorry for putting it there, will you stop crying, Kitty?"

Kitty stopped immediately. "He said a naughty word," she said quite steadily, and the wailing resumed.

"Well, I'm sorry anyway, you stupid girl," Davie said magnanimously. "And I can climb the stupid tree."

"No, you will not," Anne said firmly. "You have been all spruced up for an outing with your parents, I gather. The last thing you need is a hole through the knee of your stocking. And would you like to inform me what could possibly be stupid about a tree? I did not know that it had any intelligence at all that could be measured." She looked inquiringly at Davie.

"That's true, Davie," the older sister said gravely, "you must admit."

"Hush up, Meggie," the boy said, but Anne noticed that he did not include her in his opinion of the intelligence of the world around him.

Climbing a tree in a flimsy muslin dress and thin slippers was not an easy activity, Anne soon discovered. It was quite simple to climb the branches, but the twigs and leaves caught at her dress with every movement and she had to keep stopping to disentangle herself. It took fully five minutes to reach the ball and drop it down into the waiting hands of Kitty.

"Hurrah!" yelled Davie. "Is it ever so much fun up there? I am going to come back tomorrow when I don't have to be dressed in these stupid clothes."

"Oh, do be careful," Meggie urged. "You will slip and hurt yourself if you do not watch where you are going."

"Thank you for the ball," Kitty added, all traces of her tears gone. "I like you ever so much. Do you want to come to the hill with us? Papa is going to show us a view."

"I think if I can get down from here safely, I shall consider that I have done enough climbing for one day," Anne said, and began her slow and frustrating descent.

When she reached the bottom branch and had checked to see that her clothes were free from the clinging twigs before leaping for the ground below, she became aware of a pair of masculine arms reaching up for her. She looked down, startled, into the broadly grinning face of Jack.

"Romping with the kiddies, cousin?" he said. "Have I discovered your secret vice? I must say you look most charming up there. I have not seen such trim ankles in a long time. Do allow me to help you down."

"Oh," Anne said, "I had no idea of being observed. These children had a ball stuck up in the tree, you know. I was merely lending a hand. And I would really prefer it if you stood aside. I might bowl you over if I jump when you are standing this close."

Jack continued to grin. "Do you really weigh a ton?" he asked. "I would have thought you no heavier than a feather. Come, I shall take the risk. Put your hands on my shoulders and I shall lift you to the ground."

Anne had no choice but to comply. But Jack did not play fair, she noted indignantly. He bent his elbows so that she slid the full length of his body before touching the ground, and even then she was so off balance for a few moments that she was forced to lean against him.

"I thought so," he said quietly into her ear, not bothering to explain what it was that he had thought.

Anne pushed away from him indignantly. "Thank you, Jack," she said primly.

He reached forward with both hands and carefully disentangled a leaf from her hair. His face was very close to hers. "I wish these infernal children were not so close," he said for her ears only. "I should dearly love to kiss you, Anne. You look provocatively tumbled."

"This lady climbed the tree to get Kitty's ball, Mamma," the solemn little voice of Meggie was saying.

"And Cousin Jack lifted her down from that branch," Davie added.

Anne brushed hastily at her dress to make sure that she was properly decent before looking up to smile at Celia and Stanley… and Alexander, who was with them, his face blank.

"Really, Anne, that was most kind of you," Celia said. "But you should not have risked tearing your lovely dress. It was naughty of the children to ask, as I daresay they did. I suppose Davie put the ball up there, did he?"

"Yes, Mamma," Kitty said, "and he… ouch!" This last as Meggie's foot caught her on the shin.

"Did he, indeed?" Stanley said dryly. "I think we had better start this walk and work off some energy. Come along, children. Thank you, Anne."

"You have torn the hem at the back of your dress, Anne," Merrick said quietly as the family moved away. "You will want to go to your room to change. Allow me to escort you?"

Jack was left standing under the tree, a slight smile on his face.


************************************

The Fitzgeralds arrived by foot quite early in the afternoon. The girls were looking rosy-cheeked beneath their bonnets after the two-mile walk across the park. Jack immediately appropriated Rose and led her to the drawing room, where a fire had been lit against the slight spring chill. The others all followed, Hortense arm in arm with Addie, the middle Fitzgerald girl, Constance walking shyly beside them, trying to look old enough to be of their company. Jack, Peregrine, and Prudence gathered around Bertrand, while Merrick shook his hand and greeted him. The oldest Miss Fitzgerald took firm possession of Freddie's arm and marched him close in the wake of Jack and Rose.

"Come along, Frederick," she said. "Let us go indoors where at least we will be out of this wind. And do order us some tea. It is decidedly chilly outdoors."

"But you insisted on our walking here," Rose said plaintively, looking back at her sister. "Addie and I tried to persuade you that the wind would ruin our complexions."

"Nonsense!" her sister replied. "If you had only as much fresh air as you thought you needed, Rose, you would be positively puny. You and Addie both."

"I must say," Jack said, seadng his companion on a love seat and placing himself beside her, "you look remarkably fine, Rose, with cheeks to match your name and eyes shining from the exercise."

"Oh," the girl said, immediately hiding those eyes beneath lowered lashes.

"I shall sit in the wing chair next to the fire, Frederick," Miss Fitzgerald announced, ignoring his offer of a more elegant French chair close to the door. "Come and sit next to me and tell me all about London. What you have to say may not always make the most sense in the world, but I would infinitely prefer it to the silly chatter that we are likely to hear from the others."

"Well," Freddie said, "I had to have Silvester make my new yellow waistcoat. Weston refused. Said the color made him feel bilious. Said it would be no advertisement for his skills. Don't know why, though. Everybody always notices the waistcoat. So bright, y' know."

"Well," Miss Fitzgerald said, "I daresay it is not in the best of good taste, Frederick, but I am pleased that you insisted on having it made. You must always stand up for yourself, you know, even if you do not have quite as much in the upper works as most people."

"I will always do so," Freddie agreed eagerly. "Very good of you to say so, Ruby. Mama says I look like an overgrown canary in the waistcoat."

Miss Fitzgerald patted his hand. "You must wear it one day for me to see," she said, "and I shall give you my opinion. But even if I do not like it, Frederick, you must continue to wear it if you do."

Freddie gazed worshipfully at his new champion, and the conversation resumed.

"Where is Anne?" Prudence asked of no one in particular. "I wanted you to meet her, Fitz. She is very nice and very pretty, though I should not say so. She makes me feel quite the beanpole, all arms and legs. Why could I not have been petite like her?"

"Well, you are quite elegant, you know," Bertrand said diplomatically. "It's hard for a female to be elegant, Prue, when she is little."

"And she is such a good actress," Prudence continued, flashing him a smile. "You would never believe it, Fitz, but she has never even seen a play before. And she is easily our best player. She puts all the rest of us in the shade, except perhaps Perry, who is so funny. I thought my sides would burst from laughing this morning. Where is she, anyway? Do you know, Alex?"

"She tore the hem of her dress earlier while climbing a tree," Merrick said. "I escorted her to her room ten minutes or so ago to change."

"Climbing a tree!" Miss Fitzgerald exclaimed in a strident voice, pulling her attention free of Freddie.

"One of Stanley's children kicked a ball up into it," Jack explained, "and Anne was brought to the rescue." He grinned at the serious figure of Merrick, seated beside Prudence.


************************************

Anne had changed already and had sent Bella away to mend the hem of the damaged dress. She now wore a thin woollen dress of pale blue, one of her favorites. It fell straight from a high waistline and had a high round neckline. Its long sleeves were close-fitting. It was a very plain dress, and it accentuated her slimness. It was warm, at least. She had felt thoroughly chilled outside, dressed only in the flimsy muslin, without even a shawl to keep her arms warm.

She should go down. Through her open window she had heard loud voices and laughter. The visitors had obviously arrived. But she hated making a grand entrance. It had sounded as if they had all come inside. They were probably in the drawing room, and there was no way she could enter without attracting the attention of all of them. She sighed. How awful it was to have been born with such a large share of self-consciousness. It would not be so bad, perhaps, if Jack would not be there. But one could not expect Jack to miss such a large and boisterous social gathering. He was proving to be quite troublesome. Could he not see that she was not interested in his flirtation? Probably not. He was a handsome man, almost as good-looking as Alexander, in fact. She doubted that many women had rejected his advances in the past.

And if only Alexander would not be there… But, of course, he would be. These visitors had been the playmates of his childhood. Anne brushed furiously at the wool skirt of her dress, removing imaginary pieces of lint. Nine days still to go before she could be at peace from him again. If only she could avoid seeing him in that time. It was a ridiculous wish, of course. Even if she could avoid him in the ordinary course of a day, she would have to see him at mealtimes. And she had to look at him, talk to him, touch him, even kiss him during the very frequent rehearsals.

And there were always the nights. She could not avoid him then if he chose to come to her. She had no right to lock her door against him. And he had come each night-even last night, after their harsh words during the afternoon. He had been very late. She had been tossing and turning in bed for hours, it had seemed, before he had come. He had not had a candle with him, or lit one when he arrived. He had not said a word, either, but had merely undressed beside the bed, undressed her, and made love to her slowly and silently. She had reached new heights of ecstasy with him, and he must have felt her last cry of release coming; he had absorbed the sound into his open mouth, which had stayed on hers until they had both utterly relaxed. As had become usual with her, she had burrowed her head into the warmth of his shoulder and slept.

Many things had not changed, but Anne had. Something had happened to her as she sat on the floor of the ballroom the day before, clasping her knees and staring at her husband's back as he sat across the room from her studying his part. People do not generally change all in a rush, but something had snapped in Anne as she sat there. Did she really love this man who was her husband but who was in all essential ways a stranger to her? Did he have the right to make of her an abject, cringing creature, who was beginning yet again to doubt her own worth? Was she going to allow him completely to dominate her life? Was he worthy of her love?

Ten minutes can be a long time when one has nothing to do but sit and examine the state of one's life. Anne had come to the conclusion that her love for Alexander was a purely physical thing. She liked his appearance. In fact, she could not name one imperfection in either his face or physique. He was every woman's dream of a perfect man. She had no one with whom to compare him as a lover, but she was quite convinced that the world could not provide her with a man who could give her greater satisfaction. She admitted that her love for him had really dated from their wedding night and that the last few nights had been the happiest of her life. She dared not think of what the nights would be like when she returned alone to Redlands.