Jerome shut the door, dropped coat and muffler, and they went over to the fire and sat down on Miss Janetta’s big couch. He said,

“The police are searching the house. Aunt Collie’s in the garden, and Aunt Netta’s in her room. But you don’t want them, do you? Will I do?”

She gave him her wide, warm smile and said,

“This is very comfortable, I think.”

She was not prepared for his look.

“You are very comfortable, Les.”

“Am I?” Her voice was rather sad.

“Yes. You are a halcyon creature-you have a circle of summer round you, very warm and comforting.”

“ St. Martin ’s summer, I’m afraid-”

“ ‘Expect St. Martin ’s summer, halcyon days’? But we’re not quite into November yet, my dear. I shouldn’t put us farther than July myself.”

“I’m forty-three, Jerome.”

“So am I, as near as makes no difference. It’s a hoary age, but there is worse to come. You’ve no grey hairs, whilst I have thousands.” His tone, half bantering, changed abruptly. “Les-don’t let anyone keep you away from us.”

“I won’t if I can help it.”

He said, “I don’t know how it is-I feel as if I’d been in a dream. Now I’ve waked up. I want you to help me not to go back into the dream again. I think you can. When all this frightful business is over I want to get back to something like a normal life. Lona’s been very good, but I think it’s time she went. Aunt Netta doesn’t need her, and nor do I. There is really no reason why I should be so much of an invalid. I’ll get gradually back to doing things. There’ll be a lot of business to see to-” He broke off. “Some day I’ll write again. I feel as if I’d got a lot of ideas stored up, and they’re beginning to knock on the door and want to get out.”

“I’m so glad. I always thought-”

He said, “Do you think about me, Les?”

“Of course I do.”

“How?”

“As my friend.” Her voice went deep on the word.

He turned a little away from her.

“We were friends-great friends, I thought. And then Henry came, and he was something more than a friend.”

She lifted her steady brown eyes to his averted face.

“He wasn’t in love with me-never.”

“Then why-”

She said,

“I’d like to tell you-it’s all so long ago-I’d like to. You know what Henry was-he made you feel you were the only person in the world. I don’t think he put it on-at least not much. Do you remember when we were children, if we wanted anything we used to put Henry up to ask for it. He only had to smile and everyone said yes. It didn’t matter who it was-Mr. Pilgrim, the aunts, my father and mother, Mrs. Robbins-it was all the same, and it was very, very bad for him. I ought to have known better, but when he smiled at me, I said yes too.”

“Did you care for him, Les?” The words were almost inaudible.

Her voice dropped too.

“Not with my heart. I was charmed and flattered, and-I was very, very lonely. The man I cared for didn’t care for me, and-” the low voice shook-“I got tired of being unhappy and alone. I wanted a home of my own, and a life of my own, and children of my own. So when Henry smiled at me, I said yes. Only when it came to the point I couldn’t do it, Jerome. Mabel Robbins stuck in my throat.”

He looked round startled.

“Was it Henry?”

“Oh, yes. It came out when we were talking about a case in the papers. I don’t mean that he told me-it just came to me. It sounds stupid, but all at once I could see that it wasn’t just Mabel. It was something in Henry-he was like that, he had to have what he wanted, it didn’t matter about anyone else. There would always be women like Mabel, and it wouldn’t matter about any of them any more than it had mattered about her-any more than it would matter about me. The only person who ever had mattered, or ever would matter, was Henry. And I just felt I couldn’t do it. I should have told him so that evening-only he didn’t come-”

Jerome spoke without looking at her.

“You cared for someone?”

“Very much.”

“Then why-my dear-why-”

“I’ve told you.”

He half turned to look at her, half put out a hand, and drew it back. There was a pause before he said,

“Who was it?”

The colour rushed into Lesley’s cheeks. She looked young and defenceless. She said, stumbling over the words,

“Have you-any right-to ask?”

He looked at her then, to see the Lesley of so many years ago that the colour, the wet dark lashes, might have been because he-and Henry-had pressed her unmercifully, teased her too hard. He-and Henry-there hadn’t been anyone else. It was always he and Henry and Les. He said, “That’s for you to say.” And then, “Les-I’ve always cared.”

“You never told me-”

“You had too much money-and I’d too little.” He gave a short, hard laugh. “A hundred a year, and my brains-which were going to make me a fortune! I was going to write a bestseller, or have a smashing success with a play and come back and shove it under your father’s nose and say, ‘What about it now, sir?’ He warned me off, you know.”

“He didn’t!”

“Oh, yes, he did. ‘Boy and girl nonsense, my dear fellow. She’s going to be an heiress. You wouldn’t like to have it said you were after her money-now would you?’ And then a piece about liking me well enough but having other views for his daughter.”

After twenty years his voice showed just how much his young man’s pride had been pricked. The scene came up before Lesley as if she had been there-her father tactless and blundering, ambitious for her, without any real sense of what would bring her happiness; Jerome as proud as the devil, flinging off to make a fortune. Everything in her wept for twenty wasted years.

She said, “So that’s why you stopped coming down then?”

“Yes. My smashing success didn’t happen, but for a long time I kept thinking it might be round the next corner. I took care not to come down or see too much of you-I wasn’t going to be told a second time that I was after your money. Then your father died-”

“Well?”

He lifted a hand and let it drop again upon his knee.

“That finished it. By that time I knew just about where I came in the writing line. Anyone who isn’t a fool can measure himself if he will face up to it. I was a decent second-rater, and I wasn’t going to be anything more. I could make five or six hundred a year, but I wouldn’t ever be in a position to go to your father and tell him I wanted to marry you, and that being the case, I wasn’t going to take advantage of the fact that he was dead and go to you. It sounds a bit highfalutin, but I suppose it was just my beastly pride. So I saw less of you than ever. I thought, ‘What’s the good of getting hurt?’ You see, I never thought-I never thought I had a chance.”

She said, “You let it go-”

“I suppose I did. And now-it’s too late-”

“Is it-Jerome?”

“I’m all smashed up-”

The flush which had made her look like a girl again had died away. She was very pale as she put out her hands to him and said,

“Do you still care for me? That’s the only thing that matters-if you care.”

He took the hands and held them in a grip that hurt.

“Les-”

It was half her name, and half a sob.