over the teapot, and rose to get a little glass for her violets. The poor flowers hung over, limp on their stalks.
"They'll revive again!" she said, putting them before him in their glass for him to smell.
"Sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes," he quoted.
"I don't see a bit of connection with the actual violets," she said. "The Elizabethans are rather upholstered."
She poured him his tea.
"Do you think there is a second key to that little hut not far from John's Well, where the pheasants are reared?" she said.
"There may be. Why?"
"I happened to find it today—and I'd never seen it before. I think it's a darling place. I could sit there sometimes, couldn't I?"
"Was Mellors there?"
"Yes! That's how I found it: his hammering. He didn't seem to like my intruding at all. In fact he was almost rude when I asked about a second key."
"What did he say?"
"Oh nothing: just his manner; and he said he knew nothing about keys."
"There may be one in father's study. Betts knows them all; they're all there. I'll get him to look."
"Oh do!" she said.
"So Mellors was almost rude?"
"Oh, nothing, really! But I don't think he wanted me to have the freedom of the castle, quite."
"I don't suppose he did."
"Still, I don't see why he should mind. It's not his home, after all! It's not his private abode. I don't see why I shouldn't sit there if I want to."
"Quite!" said Clifford. "He thinks too much of himself, that man."
"Do you think he does?"
"Oh decidedly! He thinks he's something exceptional. You know he had a wife he didn't get on with, so he joined up in 1915 and was sent out to India, I believe. Anyhow he was blacksmith to the cavalry in Egypt for a time; always was connected with horses, a clever fellow that way. Then some Indian colonel took a fancy to him, and he was made a lieutenant. Yes, they gave him a commission. I believe he went back to India with his colonel, and
