plained Bill, when the necessary handshakings and introductions were over. "Here you are."
"You will tell him, won't you, how dreadfully sorry I am about—about what has happened? It seems so hopeless to say anything; so hopeless even to believe it. If it is true what we've heard."
Bill repeated the outline of events of yesterday.
"Yes. . . . And Mr. Ablett hasn't been found yet?" She shook her head in distress. "It still seems to have happened to somebody else; somebody we didn't know at all." Then, with a sudden grave smile which included both of them, "But you must come and have some tea."
"It's awfully decent of you," said Bill awkwardly, "but we—er"
"You will, won't you?" she said to Antony.
"Thank you very much."
Mrs. Norbury was delighted to see them, as she always was to see any man in her house who came up to the necessary standard of eligibility. When her life-work was completed, and summed up in those beautiful words: "A marriage has been arranged, and will shortly take place, between Angela, daughter of the late John Norbury. . . " then she would utter a grateful Nunc dimittis and depart in peace—to a better world, if Heaven insisted, but pre-
