WAITING FOR DEBORAH
by
BETTY NEELS


MILLS <sl B 0 0 1ST

CHAPTER ONE

the man standing in front of the empty fireplace was short and stockily
built with a long thin face and light brown hair already receding from
his forehead.  He was dressed in a pin-striped suit, a coloured shirt
and a perfectly dreadful tie, and he was obviously pleased both with
his appearance and his attire.  When he spoke it was with a pomposity
which was quite unsuited to his age and his appearance.

There were two other persons in the room, a young woman, elegantly
dressed and faultlessly made up, her dark hair brushed into a carefully
careless cloud around her good looks, who was lounging on a sofa, and
another girl, considerably younger, sitting on a small chair by the
window.  Unlike her companion, she had carroty hair which was straight
and pinned rather carelessly into a knot at the back of her neck.  She
had no looks to speak of and she was far too thin; only her eyes, when
she glanced at the man, were beautiful: vividly blue, large and fringed
with curling lashes several shades darker than her hair.  She sat
composedly, her hands clasped in the lap of her tweed skirt, and
listened to the man as he talked.

"Of course I shall sell this place and the furniture.

6 WAITING FOR DEBORAH

I may have to wait for my money but I have my flat and you Barbara,
have yours.  "

7 haven't a flat," observed the girl with the carroty hair in a
matter-of-fact voice.

They both looked at her.

"My father was good enough to allow you to live here in comfort with
him while he was alone, very generous of him considering that you are
no relation..."

"My mother married him."

Her stepbrother waved that away with a podgy hand.

"And since her death he gave you a home--a very comfortable home
too--you have lived at your ease, Deborah, and I consider that I owe
you nothing."

"Yes, well--I thought you might think that."  She added in a small calm
voice, "You and Barbara have never liked me."

"Well, you have no need to wallow in self-pity," said Barbara
nastily.

"You've had plenty of experience running a household, you get yourself
a job--a mother's help or something.  Anyway this is all very boring.
Walter, I'll leave it all to you; just let me have my share when you've
got rid of this place."  She got up gracefully and went to rearrange
her hair in front of the old-fashioned mirror above the fireplace.

"Very well, it may take some time.  I suppose Deborah can stay here and
ca retake until the house is sold."  He didn't ask her if she were
willing but went on, "I'll see that you have money for food and so
on."

He joined his sister on the way to the door.

"And WAITING FOR DEBORAH 7 don't think that you can throw my money
around;

I shall want accounts kept of every penny you spend.  "

"There won't be any accounts," said Deborah reasonably, 'because I have
no money; you took the cheque books as soon as my stepfather died and
prob ably any cash there was in the house as well.  " Walter went an
unbecoming puce and gobbled.

"Don't be impertinent, you know nothing about such things."  He took
his wallet from a pocket and counted out some notes.

"You will need very little money; this should be sufficient for some
weeks."

He bustled Barbara out of the room and banged the door after him only
to open it again.

"And kindly remember that this house and its contents are now mine."

She sat quietly until she heard the bang of the front door--banging
doors was Walter's way of expressing his annoyance.  She got to her
feet then, picked up the money and put it in her handbag and went along
to the kitchen to make herself some lunch.  She was alone in the house;
there had been a cook and a housemaid when her stepfather had been
alive but Walter had dismissed them With a month's wages the moment the
funeral was over.  Unnecessary mouths to feed, he had told Barbara; he
wouldn't need to pay Deborah anything if she stayed at the house until
he had sold it.  She had nowhere to go, no family living near by, and
her only friends were elderly ones of her mother.  She had lost touch
with them anyway, for his 8 WAITING FOR DEBORAH father had discouraged
any social life which she might have had; her place, he had told her
frequently, was at home, looking after him.  It was, Walter had
observed in a satisfied voice, a most satisfactory arrangement.

Deborah ate her lunch, got her outdoor things and left the house,
walking briskly in the chill March wind.  The bus stop was some minutes
away, for her stepfather's house was in one of the secluded roads in
Hampstead, but she enjoyed the short walk, her head full of plans.  She
was free; never mind what Walter had said, she would find a job as
quickly as possible and leave the house.  She could leave the keys with
the house agent.  In Oxford Street, off the bus, she bought an evening
paper and scanned its columns for agents' ad dresses.  There was any
number.  She chose the near est, stated her wish to work as a mother's
help, paid her fee, and made her way to the second address she had
marked on the newspaper.  She visited four agencies and the fees made a
considerable hole in Walter's money.  Set a sprat to catch a mackerel,
Deborah told herself, getting on the bus again to go back to Hampstead
and the large un&iendly house she had called home for some years.  She
had tea and supper together for it was already early evening sitting in
the kitchen, pencil and paper on the table beside her, doing
optimistic sums.  She had given her telephone number to the agencies;
they WAITING FOR DEBORAH 9 would ring if there was anything suitable.
In the meanwhile she would pack her clothes and--since it hadn't
entered her head to do otherwise--clean and dust and Hoover the gloomy
rooms until she was able to leave.  She locked up presently and went
upstairs to her room and got ready for bed.  She didn't like being
alone in the house but, since she had no choice, she tried to ignore
the small noises and creaks which somehow only sounded at night.

Tonight, however, she was too excited at the thought of her future to
worry about that.  She didn't expect to hear anything the next day but
by the end of the fourth day she was getting worried.  A man from the
house agent had been, inspected the house and told her that he would be
in touch with her stepbrother, and it seemed to her highly likely that
Walter would pay a visit in the very near future.  She phoned the
agencies the next morning and the first three had nothing for her but
the fourth was more hopeful; if she would go along to the office
perhaps she would like to consider a post which might suit her.

Deborah lost no time.  The rush-hour was over, the bus made good time,
and she found herself in Oxford Street, five minutes' walk from the
side-street and the agency.

She was at its door when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Debby--it is Debby?  My dear, such a long time 10 WAITING FOR DEBORAH
since I saw you last--your stepfather died recently, did he not?  Two
weeks ago, wasn't it?  Are you living with your stepbrother?"  The
speaker was elderly, well dressed and still pretty and her smile was
warm.

"Mrs.  Dexter, how lovely to see you--it's years..."

"So it is," said her companion and reflected that Deborah's looks
hadn't improved with the passing of time and surely she had been
wearing that jacket and skirt when they had met last.

"You must have lunch with me and tell me your news, but first I must go
and see that tiresome woman in the agency.  You're member old Mrs.
Vernon?  A friend of your dear mother's and of your grandmother's too.
She had a stroke some months ago and now she is living with her niece
who simply can't cope with her and has begged me to find someone to
live in and look after her--a light post, she tells me, with a little
housework and ironing and so forth.  There's help in the house anyway
but Clara--the niece, you know--tells me that she herself isn't too
strong."  Mrs.  Dexter drew breath and Deborah said quickly, "Mrs.
Dexter, I need a job badly, as soon as p6ssible-would I do?"

"You?  My dear--but surely... did your stepfather not leave you
provided for?"  And when Deborah shook her head, "And your
stepbrother--I've forgot ten his name--there must be plenty of
money?"

"I believe there is, but Walter is settling things.

He's selling the house--I'm staying there until it's sold and then I am
to find work.  Only I thought I wouldn't wait for that so I've got my
name down at several agencies for mother's help or something similar.
I'm used to running a house and looking after invalids.  " She spoke
without bitterness and Mrs.  Dexter patted her arm.

"You have had more than your fair share of that, my dear.  I believe
that you would do very well for Mrs.  Vernon, especially as she has
known you and your mother.  We will go and see the woman inside and
settle things."  They mounted the stairs together and at the top Mrs.
Dexter said, "I forgot to tell you they live in the depths of the
country--the Cotswolds, would you mind?"

"Mind?  I shall love it, and Walter won't know where I am..."  Mrs.
Dexter paused on the landing.

"You had a step sister too^a very pretty girl."

"Barbara, yes, she has a boutique somewhere near Harrods."

"She wouldn't like you to live with her?"  ventured Mrs.  Dexter.

"She doesn't like me either," said Deborah in a voice quite empty of
self-pity.

Mrs.  Dexter said no more but swept into the agency office, dealt
briskly with the stony-eyed woman be hind the desk and swept out again,
Deborah in tow.

"That's settled," she said with satisfaction.

"I shall drive you down myself the day after tomorrow.  Clara will be
both relieved and delighted.  Did I mention your salary?  No?"  She
thought for a moment and mentioned a sum which Deborah, quite without
money of her own for a long time, found unbelievably generous.  They
had coffee together in a chic little cafe and parted company the best
of friends, Mrs.  Dexter to go into Liberty's and Deborah to scour BHS
for the replenishment of her meagre wardrobe.  Some thing suitable for
the companion of a bedridden old lady and some decent undies--a
dressing-gown too in case she had to get up in the night and sensible
shoes, for presumably if her new job was in the country she would walk
in her free time.

Pleased with her purchases, she took herself back to Hampstead, and
over her tea counted her remaining money.  There wasn't a great deal
left, but she wouldn't need any for the first week or so.  Walter would
be furious when he discovered that she had used his money in such a
fashion but, after all, he had given it to her.  She went to bed happy
for the first time in years.

She spent the next day finishing her packing and making sure that the
house was as clean and tidy as she could make it.  She had thought a
lot about writing a note to Walter and finally composed a stiff little
letter telling him that she had found work for herself, left the keys
with the house agent and turned off the water.  He would be annoyed, of
course, but it was WAITING FOR DEBORAH 13 unlikely that he would
bother to look for her.

She left the note on the hall table and went to bed for the last time
in the house in the plainly furnished room her stepfather had
considered good enough for her.  Before she went to sleep she wondered
what her room would be like in Mrs.  Vernon's house.  Speculating
happily about her future, she went to sleep.

She was to be fetched in the morning and Mrs.  Dexter's
chauffeur-driven car drew up before the door shortly after nine
o'clock.  Sitting in the back with her mother's friend, Deborah was
invited to ask any questions she wished.

"Mrs.  Vernon--is she Mrs.  Vernon's aunt?"

"No, no--Robert Vernon is her nephew.  He and Clara have three
children: two boys and a girl--let me see, they must be between ten and
fourteen years old now, Robin, Ruth and Laurie.  Clara has a busy life;
Robert is a successful solicitor and has his office in the nearest town
but they live near a small village four miles or so north of there.
Eastleach--it's really two hamlets on either side of the road."

"Is Mrs.  Vernon completely bedridden?"

"I'believe so.  From what Clara told me she remains in bed.

The local nurse has been coming each day to attend to her but Clara has
found it impossible to get her out of bed which is what the doctor
recommends.  " Mrs.  Dexter cast a rather worried look at Deborah.

"I hope that you will be strong enough, dear..."

"I nursed Mother for almost a year and when my 14 WAITING FOR DEBORAH
stepfather became ill I nursed him too.  He was a difficult patient,"
added Deborah without rancour, remembering the disturbed nights, the
constant complaining and the lack of freedom.  She had tackled Walter
once about getting someone to relieve her oc- cassionally so that she
might have a few hours to herself and had been lectured at length on
the subject of her ingratitude.  What did she expect?  Had she not a
cook and a housemaid to do everything for her?  Was she not fed and
clothed? Had she not a comfortable roof over her head?

She had allowed his tirade to flow over her head and thought her own
thoughts.

Since they travelled for a good part of the way on the M4, turning off
at Swindon and going north to Lechlade, the journey took little more
than two and a half hours.  As they left the town behind them and took
a narrow country road Deborah felt the first pangs of doubt.  Supposing
the old lady didn't like her?  Or her niece for that matter?  Well, she
had burnt her boats now and there was no turning back.  Her spirits
lifted a little at Mrs.  Dexter's kind, "You will be so welcome, my
dear, and I am sure that you will be happy here."

The car turned into a short drive and drew up be fore a lovely old
Cotswold house, its walls and roof of honey-coloured Cotswold stone,
its windows with stone mullions and leaded panes.  Deborah got out of
the car and looked around her with delight; there were e house and
clumps of them dotted around the well-kept lawns surrounding the house.
It seemed like heaven after the house at Hampstead.

In answer to Mrs.  Dexter's tug on the bell-pull the door was opened by
a stout little woman with a round smiling face and twinkling eyes,
enveloped in a print overall.  She wished them good day in a soft
country voice and stood aside for them to go on ahead.

"It's Mrs.  Dexter and the young lady, isn't it?"  She beamed at them
both.

"Mrs.  Vernon's in the drawing- room--this way."

The hall was pleasant and immaculate and so was the room into which
they were shown, flowers every where, cushions well shaken, silver
photo frames gleaming, and the woman crossing the room to greet them
was as immaculate.  Dressed in a well cut tweed skirt and a cashmere
sweater and just the right amount of gold jewellery, she looked less
than her years, her face skilfully made-up and her golden hair cut by a
masterly hand.  She was good-looking but she wore a discontented air as
she kissed the air by Mrs.  Dexter's cheek.  , "Aunt Phyllis, you have
no idea how delighted I am to see you!"  She glanced at Deborah.

"And this is Miss Everett?"

She smiled at Deborah but didn't shake hands and her blue eyes held no
warmth.  Deborah's heart sank.  She doesn't like me, she reflected, and
then decided n said, "It is such a relief to me that I shall have help
with my aunt.

It is a light post and you will have plenty of time to yourself, but I
lead a busy life with the children and various social commitments and I
rely upon you to take good care of her at all times.  " She smiled,
though again the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Do leave your things in the cloakroom and we will have lunch, then I
can take you to my aunt."

The dining-room was as pristine as the drawing- room and rather chilly.
A grumpy-looking maid served lamb chops and vegetables and then jellied
fruit and custard and Mrs.  Vernon and Mrs.  Dexter chatted lightly,
careful to include Deborah in the conversation.  They had their coffee
at the table and presently Mrs.  Dexter said that she must go again.

"I must be back in town in good time," she explained.

"I'm dining early, for I'm going to the theatre with friends."  She
smiled kindly at Deborah.

"My-dear, I'm sure that you will be happy here--do write and tell me
how you are getting on, won't you?  I am so glad that we met at such a
fortuitous time."

Mrs.  Vernon Went with her to the car and Deborah sat where she was in
the hall.  Her case had been taken upstairs; she supposed that she
would be shown her room and given time to unpack.

Mrs.  Vernon came back into the house, brisk and businesslike.

"We will go to my aunt now," she said.

"You can unpack later."

Deborah followed her up the carpeted staircase, along a corridor and
then up another flight of stairs at the back of the house.  Here the
thick carpeting had given way to a serviceable matting and the windows
overlooking the country beyond were curtained in a useful beige
material.  The passage they were in was narrow and had several doors,
the end one of which Mrs.  Vernon opened.

"Well, here is your charge," she told Deborah.

The room was large, low-ceilinged and sparsely furnished.  There was a
long latticed window and facing it a narrow bed, its occupant lying
flat under its blankets; an old lady, her eyes open, watching them.

Mrs.  Vernon spoke rather loudly.

"Aunt Emma, here is your companion.

Her name is Deborah; she will wash you and feed you and make your bed
and make sure that you are comfortable.  I shall show her her room now
and then she will come back here to you.  "

The old lady closed her eyes and Mrs.  Vernon said impatiently, Of
course, we aren't sure if she understands what we are saying.  Now come
and see your room.  "

It was separated from the old lady's by a bathroom, a small room, its
narrow bed against a wall.  There was a small table beneath the window,
a chair by it and a basket chair by the bed beside a side-table with a
lamp upon it.  The bedspread was candlewick in the same serviceable
shade of beige.  A depressing little room, but Deborah reminded herself
that it was hers, r money, security for the foreseeable future.

"You can unpack later," said Mrs.  Vernon carelessly.

"Go down to the kitchen at four o'clock and Cook will give you a tray.
Aunt Emma has a drink then and you can have your tea at the same
time."

"Am I to have my meals here?"  asked Deborah.

"She doesn't wake early; you can go down to the dining-room at
half-past seven and have your breakfast then; I'll get Florrie--the
housemaid--to keep an eye on Aunt Emma while you have your lunch and
supper.  You will have to arrange whatever free time you want but
please don't expect me to relieve you.  I'm completely worn out after
weeks of looking after my aunt."

"Is she to be left at all?"

"If she's sleeping there's no reason why you shouldn't get out for a
time, I suppose; you'll discover when is best for yourself."  Mrs.
Vernon went away and Deborah went back into the room.  The old lady's
eyes were still closed.  She crossed to the window and pulled back the
curtains and the' pale sunshine lighted the room.  AA few flowers,"
said Deborah, talking to herself, 'and surely Mrs.  Vernon would be
more comfortable with another pillow."

She went to the bed and studied the elderly face, one side drawn down a
little by reason of the stroke.  It must have been good-looking in
earlier years and'd it.  Mrs.  Vernon opened her eyes, staring up at
Deborah, who picked up one of the flaccid hands on the counterpane and
held it gently.

"Hello," she said in her pretty voice, "I'm Deborah, come to look after
you.  I'll do my best to make you comfortable and I'm sure we'll get on
well together.  You niece wasn't sure if you understood her.  If you
understand me, will you wink?"

It was a nice surprise when the old lady winked.

"Oh, good," said Deborah, 'that's an excellent start.  I can ask you
things and you can wink your answers.  One wink for yes and two for no.
"

It was a slow business but it worked.  Within the next half-hour
Deborah had turned her patient over on to her other side, peered into
the other rooms along the passage until she found a soft pillow and
settled the elderly head upon it and then, armed with a basin and
water, from the bathroom, freshened her face and hands.  The old eyes
stared at her and Mrs.  Vernon's mouth made tiny movements although
there was no sound.

Deborah pulled up a chair and took a hand in hers.

"Look, I don't know much about it, but I'm quite sure that you will be
able to move and speak again, but you have to wait for your head to get
better.  I'll do all that I can to help you; we'll think up a routine
for you and really work at it."

She was heartened by the emphatic wink she had in answer.  She unpacked
presently while the old lady dozed and then went down to the kitchen
for the tray.  She went down the way she had come up and as she reached
the last tread of the staircase Mrs.  Vernon came out of the
drawing-room with another woman, laughing and talking.  She stopped
when she saw Deborah and said sharply, "You can use the back stairs,
Deborah, but, since you're here, go through the baize door."  She
nodded towards the back of the hall and went into the drawing-room with
her companion.

The kitchen was large and comfortably warm and the cheerful soul who
had admitted them said at once, "You've come for your tray, love?  I've
got it ready, there's a feeder for Mrs.  Vernon and a jug of warm milk
and a nice pot of tea for you and some sandwiches and cake.  And if
there is anything you need you just ask me or Cook.  We're that glad
you've come for we've been fair run off our feet since the old lady was
took bad.  We said to young Mrs.  Vernon, " You get someone to look
after Mrs.  Vernon or we'll give in our 'notice"."  She added
sympathetically, "You'll have your hands full^ miss.  Me and Cook'll
take over for an hour in the afternoons so's you can get a breath of
air."

"You're very kind.  I didn't know that you had had to look after Mrs.
Vernon; I thought young Mrs.  Vernon had been doing that."

"Lor' love you dearie, she never goes near the poor old thing, only
when the doctor comes.  She'd have been better off in an hospital but
they want to keep her here so's if she gets to move a hand a bit she
can sign her name so's they can take care of her money."

She made the tea and put the teapot on the tray.

"Not that I should be gossiping with you and you only just here but
it's only right you should know which way the cat's jumping."

"It's kind of you to tell me," said Deborah.

"I'll take good care of the old lady."

She bore the tray upstairs, gave Mrs.  Vernon the milk, a slow business
but successfully achieved, and then^ sat down near the bed and had her
own tea.  Mrs.  Vernon was dozingagain and she was able to consider
what Mrs.  Dodd had told her--it was a quite different picture from
that which Mrs.  Dexter had painted although she was sure that that
lady had no idea of the true state of things.  That her own position in
the household wasn't quite as Mrs.  Dexter had pictured it didn't worry
her;

she was fired with the ambition to get the old lady better although she
had very little idea of how to set about it.  All she knew was that
people recovered from strokes sooner or later and to a greater or
lesser degree, provided that the stroke hadn't been a massive one.  The
local nurse had been coming in to see her and she might be a useful
source of information.  Deborah drained the teapot, ate ev k to the
kitchen.  When she finally got into her bed that night she was tired.
Mrs.  Vernon was hard work and she found that she was expected to
manage by herself.  It meant rolling the patient to and fro while she
saw to the bed and washed her, heaved her up on to her pillows, fed her
the milky drink which, it seemed, was all that she was allowed, and
then sat quietly by the bed until she slept.  The job, she reflected,
wasn't quite what she had expected, but never mind that, it was a job
and she was free.  She got up early and since the old lady was still
asleep she bathed and dressed and crept down the back stairs.  Mrs. 
Dodd was in the kitchen and greeted her in a friendly fashion and
offered a cup of tea.

"If you come down in half an hour your breakfast would be ready.  You
don't mind eating it here?  The mistress has hers in bed and Mr. Vernon
likes to be on his own..."

Deborah didn't mind and said so and Mrs.  Dodd went on, "You'll need to
have the old lady spick and span by ten o'clock: the doctor comes twice
a wteek-today and on Friday--just takes a look at her and has a chat
with the mistress."

Old Mrs.  Vernon was awake when Deborah went back upstairs and there
was time to bathe her face and smooth her hair and make her
comfortable.

Deborah talked while she worked, heaved the old lady n offered her a
drink.  She drank thirstily and Deborah, offering more water, resolved
to ask for something more interesting.  Surely if Mrs.  Vernon could
manage to swallow water she could do the same with orange juice or
barley water or even Bovril and chicken broth?

Eating the breakfast the cook put before her presently, she broached
the subject.

"Well, I don't see why you shouldn't help yourself to anything you
would think she might fancy.  Fluids, the doctor said, and they're all
fluids, aren't they?"  She pointed to the big dresser which took up all
one wall.

"You'll find everything that you want in there and no need to ask."

So Deborah went back to the old lady's room with a jug of orange juice
and a small tea tray.  She hoped she was doing the right thing but she
couldn't see any reason for not doing it and besides the doctor would
come presently and she could ask him and find out too just how much
movement the patient could tolerate.

The tea was taken with obvious pleasure, judging by the flurry of winks
from the mask-like face.  Deborah bore the tray 'back to the kitchen,
put the orange juice in the bathroom to keep cool, and set about
readying her patient for the day.  Mrs.  Vernon, although helpless, was
small and very thin, which was a good thing, for Deborah had a good
deal of heaving and turning to do before she was satisfied with her
efforts and knew that her patient was comfortable.  It e winked
several times.  Dr.  Benson was a disappointment; he came into the room
accompanied by young Mrs.  Vernon, accorded Deborah a nod and went to
look at his patient.

"Looks comfortable enough," he observed jovially.

"Let us hope that this young woman will look after her as well as you
have done, my dear.  I only hope that you have not overtaxed your
strength; you must take things easy."

Deborah, standing by the bed, saw the pent-up rage in the old eyes
staring up at him.  There was some thing wrong and she wasn't sure what
it was but of one thing she was sure: it wouldn't be of any use asking
Dr.  Benson's advice.  He hadn't spoken to her at all, addressing all
his remarks to Mrs.  Vernon, but she took heart when she heard him
telling her that since she was so anxious about her aunt he had
arranged for a specialist to come-and see the old lady.

"I'll bring him with me on Friday," he promised.

"He's one of the best men in the medical world."

"You're doing very nicely."  He bent over his patient and spoke rather
loudly.

"We must be patient."  He patted her hand, nodded to Deborah and went
away with Mrs.  Vernon.

Deborah skipped to the bathroom and filled a feeder with some orange
juice.  Rest was all very well but some extra nourishment might do no
harm.  Her gentle heart was shaken to see tears oozing from un m round
the elderly head and lifted it gently.

"You're going to get better," she said, "I'm quite sure of that. You're
going to have nourishing drinks and I'm going to rub your legs and arms
so that when you can move again you won't feel weak.  I'm not a nurse
but if you'll trust me I'll do my very best to get you better. Just
don't lose heart, because it will take the two of us."

Florrie came presently so that Deborah might go down to her lunch.  It
surprised her very much to discover that she was having it with young
Mrs.  Vernon, but only for that day it seemed, so that that lady could
make her wishes known to Deborah.

"Normally you may have your lunch in the morning-room at the back of
the house and your supper too of course.  Tea you can have upstairs and
someone will sit with my aunt each afternoon for an hour or so.  The
village has a shop if you should need anything and when it can be
arranged you may take a half- day--there's a bus once or twice a week
into Lechlade."  She glanced at Deborah.

"It's an easy post--there's really nothing to do but keep my aunt
comfortable.  She needs' very little and has no appetite."

Deborah murmured politely, not believinga word of it.

She walked to the village and back while Mrs.  Dodd sat with Mrs.
Vernon.

It was a brisk spring day and her spirits rose in the open air.  It was
nice to have an e could get the old lady a little better--well enough
to sit in a chair perhaps and eat a little and have visitors.  Deborah
went back to the unwelcoming room armed with a bunch of late snowdrops
she had picked and, since there was no one to see, a few daffodils from
the garden.

She showed them to her patient and thought that she saw pleasure in the
staring eyes.  She put them where they could be seen from the bed and
went to fetch the tea tray.

The next day followed the pattern of the last with no sign of the old
lady's niece and so did the day after that, but on Friday morning
Deborah was surprised to see young Mrs.  Vernon come into the room.

"See that my aunt is in a clean nightgown," she told Deborah after a
meaningless "Good morning'.  " Dr.  Benson will be here at half-past
eleven with that specialist.  Get the room tidied up too and remember
to stand still and keep quiet while they're here; you have no need to
answer any questions, for I will be here.  "

She went away again, leaving Deborah to '^finish brushing the silvery
hair and, to tie it back out of the way.  She smiled at the old lady as
she did so and was taken aback by the look in her eyes.

"You can hear, can't you?"  she asked gently, and when one eye winked,
"I'm going to try and see the doctor--this specialist who is coming to
see you; I don't know e there's more to be done than we're doing.
Shall I do that?"

She had another wink in answer.

She heard Mrs.  Vernon's tinkling laugh before the door opened and they
came in; she was talking vivaciously to Dr.  Benson and smiling
charmingly at him and the man with him.  He paused in the doorway and
studied the room, its sparse furniture, the drab curtains, its lack of
comfort; his eyes lingered for a moment on the bright splashes of
colour afforded by the daffodils and snowdrops and last of all he
looked at Deborah, neat as a new pin, her carroty hair severely pinned
back, its colour vying with the flowers.  He joined the others then and
turned with a slight lift of his eyebrows to Mrs.  Vernon, then
glancing at Deborah.

"Oh, this is my aunt's companion, or should I say attendant?  She is
quite a help to me--it is exhausting work, you know."  The specialist
crossed the room and held out a hand.

"But very worthwhile work," he said and smiled down at her.

"Miss...?"

"Everett, Deborah Everett..."

Young Mrs.  Vernon broke in quickly, "This is Sir James Marlow, Deborah
held out a hand and had it engulfed in his large cool one.  He was a
giant of a man, nearer forty than thirty, she thought, and handsome
with it, his fair hair already silvered, his eyes a clear blue half
hidden under heavy lids.  She smiled--here was some one she could talk
to...

CHAPTER TWO

deborah quickly discovered that there was to be no chance of saying
anything.  Young Mrs.  Vernon had a smooth answer for Sir James's
questions.  Oh, yes, she assured him earnestly, her aunt had a varied
liquid diet and she herself had massaged the flaccid arms and legs just
as the nurse had told her to do.

"Quite exhausting," she added, the very picture of patient effort.

Sir James had little to say; he nodded courteously and indicated that
he would like to examine his patient.  Deborah, waved away by Mrs.
Vernon's imperious hand, stepped back and watched while that lady
turned back the bed covers, observing, "Of course my aunt doesn't
understand anything, does she?  There is absolutely no response..."

Sir James didn't speak, but bent his vast bulk over the bed and began a
leisurely examination of his patient.  He was very thorough, and when
it was, necessary to turn the patient from one side to the other it was
Deborah who did it.

"For," declared young Mrs.  Vernon, "I simply haven't the strength." 
Dr. Benson patted her hand in a sympathetic manner but Sir James took
no notice, intent as he was on noting're t there were any.  Deborah
replaced the bedclothes, squeezed one of the quiet hands on them and
efficiently retired to her corner.

Sir James straightened his enormous back.  He said clearly, looking at
the old lady as he spoke, "I see no reason why Mrs.  Vernon should not
recover at least two-thirds of her normal capacity.  Perhaps we might
discuss what is to be done..."

"How splendid," observed young Mrs.  Vernon, not mean inga word of it,
and Dr.  Benson looked doubtful.

"It would mean treatment of some sort, presumably?  But Mrs.  Vernon
simply couldn't allow her aunt to go into hospital--here she has all
the care she needs."

"Perhaps if we talk about this downstairs?"  suggested Sir James and
smiled at Deborah as he left the room.

Deborah whisked herself over to the bed.

"He's on our side," she said to the mask-like face on its pillows.

"He said that you would get better, you heard him, didn'J; you?"  She
received a wink, and went on, "I must see him--if only he would stay
for lunch I might see him when he leaves."

Fate was, for once, being helpful.  Cook told her that Sir James was
staying to lunch although Dr.  Benson had had to go, "Though he did say
that he would have to be back in London later this afternoon.

I'm to have lunch ready for one o'clock sharp so's he can leave by
half-past two.  "

Deborah, about to leave the kitchen with a jug of the delicious
nourishing bouillon purloined from the dining-room lunch, paused to
ask, "Could Florrie come punctually, do you think?  If she could come
before two o'clock--I'll come back early to make up for it."

"Don't you worry, miss," said Cook, polishing the glasses at the table,
"I'll see she's there.  Come down for your lunch as soon as you can.

Old Mrs.  Vernon'll enjoy that bouillon--real tasty it is.  " Deborah
talked while she fed the old lady, making plans about what they could
do once Mrs.  Vernon was on her feet again.

"What you really need is a room on the ground floor so that I can put
you in a wheelchair and take you for walks.  But first we have to get
you out of bed..."

She went down to her own lunch presently and took her tray into the
morning-room and closed the door carefully to shut out the sound of
young Mrs.  Vernon's laugh.  Deborah, a gentle soul by nature're ally
hated her.  However, shejiad other things to think about; if Florrie
was punctual she could be out of the house soon after two o'clock and
since there was only one road to the village and the main road beyond
it, Sir James would have to go that way.  She would lie in wait for
him, she decided, gobbling up the little e dessert destined for the
dining-room.

She had just finished settling Mrs.  Vernon for the afternoon when
Florrie came and settled herself with a magazine near the bed.

"I'll be back by half-past three," promised Deborah, and added, 'thank
you Florrie.  "

"Meeting your boyfriend?"  asked Florrie.

"With my plain face?"  Deborah spoke matter-of- factly.

"I haven't got one--never had, not had the time nor the chance."

"Well, I never, miss, and you're not all that plain, if you'd do your
hair different like for a start--it's a lovely colour and I bet it
curls a bit if only you'd give it a chance."

"I'll think about it," promised Deborah.  She took a last look at the
old lady and hurried off to get on her outdoor things; she had wasted
time talking to Florrie.

It was the end of March and the month was going out like a lamb, true
to the old adage.  It was pleasant walking along the narrow country
road but she didn't loiter; she wanted to be at least halfway to the
village, well ia way from the house.  If she remembered rightly there
was a lay by there; it would do nicely.  All she had to do was to get
him to stop.

She reached the spot and found it highly satisfactory for the road
stretched on either side of it in a more or less straight line so that
she would see him coming.  It was merely a question of waiting.

She didn't have to wait long.  The grey Bentley came rushing towards
her in dignified silence and she stepped into the middle of the road
and held up an arm.  The great car stopped smoothly and Sir James
opened the door.

"Do get in," he said pleasantly.

"We can talk more easily."  He waited while she got in and sat down and
then leaned across her and closed the door.

"Did you know I'd be here?"

"I rather expected to see you..."

"Why?"

"You have an expressive face.  Miss Everett."  He turned to look at
her.

"What is worrying you?"

She studied his face before she replied; he wasn't only a very handsome
man, he looked--she sought for a word--safe; besides, he was a doctor
and one could say things to doctors and they listened and never told
anyone.  "I haven't much time and I don't suppose you have either. 
I've only been here four days and I don't know anything about old Mrs.
Vernon.  I was told that she was on a fluid diet and that she just
needed to be kept comfortable but she had been-having endless milk and
water and--and she wasn't very clean.  And somehow I couldn't get Dr.
Benson alone to ask him.  I've started giving her some orange juice and
Bovril and weak tea and she likes that--I know because she winks once
if she thinks something is all right and twice if some's possible but
couldn't I massage her arms and legs?  You see, I'd like to help her to
get better and not just lie there, but perhaps I shouldn't be doing any
of these things.  So would you tell me what to do and could you ask Dr.
Benson to write out a diet for her?"  She heaved a gusty sigh.

"I sound like a prig, don't I?  But I don't mean to be."

He smiled very kindly.

"Not in the least like a prig, but why didn't you ask Dr.  Benson all
this?  He's a very kind man; it is hardly..."

"Oh, dear--it's something called medical ethics, isn't it?  Silly of me
not to think of that, but thank you for listening and I'll try to get
him alone."  She put a hand on the door and he leaned across and took
it off again and put it back in her lap.

"Not so fast.  Leave it to me, will you?  And in the meantime there is
no reason why Mrs.  Vernon should not have variety in her fluid diet.
No coffee, of course... you are familiar with the rudiments of
nursing?"

"I nursed my mother for a year before she died and then my stepfather
for more than two years."

His voice was casual.

"You have no family?"

"Not really--a stepbrother and a stepsister."

He nodded.

"There is no reason why Mrs.  Vernon should not improve considerably.
By all means massage her legs and arms, and talk to her--you do al I
could judge is good."  She heard the note of finality in his voice and
put her hand on the door once more but before she could open it he had
got out and come round the car to open it for her.  She hadn't expected
that and, much to her annoyance, blushed.

Sir James's firm mouth twitched but all he said was, "Now do exactly as
Dr.  Benson says, won't you?  Goodbye, Miss Everett."  She watched the
car until it was out of sight before turning round and going back to
the house.  She was unlikely to see him again, she reflected, but she
couldn't forget him; it wasn't just the magnificent size of him or his
good looks--he had listened to her, something Walter hadn't done for
years.  Nor, for the matter, had her stepfather.

"A very nice man," said Deborah, talking to herself since there was no
one else to talk to.

"I should very much like to meet him again but of course I shan't."

Florrie was deep in her magazine when Deborah got home.

"She's been as good as gold," she told Deborah, 'sleeping like a baby.
" s But when she went over to the bed the old, lady's eyes were open.

"Good, have you been awake for a long time?"

An eye winked.

"Then we'll have tea early, shall we?  I'll tell you about my
walk..."

She described the primroses and violets she had's bordering the road,
the hedges and the catkins and a squirrel she had seen up a tree, but
she didn't say a word about Sir James.

It was several days before Dr.  Benson came again and this time he
wished her good morning.

"I have received a letter from Sir James," he told her.

"I have already told Mrs.  Vernon of its contents but since you are
looking after my patient it is necessary that I tell you too.

He is of the opinion that the diet may be increased--broth, Bovril,
weak tea, fruit juices--and he suggests that she might tolerate a
nourishing milky food: Complan.  You know of it?  "

Deborah said that yes, she did, reflecting on the countless times she
had prepared it for her stepfather.

"He also agrees with me that gentle massage would be of great
benefit.

Five minutes or so each day on the limbs.  "

Young Mrs.  Vernon spoke, "Of course none of this is going to cure
her--but it might make her more comfortable, I suppose."  She peered
down at her aunt, who lay with her eyes shut.

"She must be very weak by now."  She added quickly, "Poor dear old
thing."  Then gave Dr.  Benson a sad smile.

"You have done all--more than enough for her," he told her.

"You are quite worn out--you need a few weeks' rest."  He glanced at
Deborah.

"I

should suppose that this young lady--Deborah?  --is capable of r a
short period?  " Deborah, assuming her most capable expression,
pondered the fact that Dr.  Benson, who was probably a nice man, clever
enough and kind to his patients, should have been taken in so
completely by Mrs.  Vernon.  Probably Sir James felt the same way; she
was by no means beautiful but she was skilfully made up and wore
beautiful clothes; besides, she had mastered the art of being
charming... Dr. Benson rambled on.

"You husband is still away?  In London?  What could be better?  Allow
yourself to relax, Mrs.  Vernon, enjoy yourself, go and join him, go
out and about; you will return refreshed."  Any woman, thought Deborah,
listening to this, would be refreshed by a few theatres, dinners out
and the kind of shopping Mrs.  Vernon would do.  She wondered about Mr.
Vernon, apparently away on business.  His wife spoke of him in capital
letters so presumably he was her loving slave.  She caught the tail-end
of what Mrs.  Vernon was saying.

"To leave my dear aunt with servants...!  should never forgive myself
if anything should hap pen while I was away."

"My dear lady, your aunt may linger for some time; on the other hand
she may die very shortly--she is very weak as you can see.  Even with
this diet which Sir James has suggested and massage... they are merely
a means of bringing your aunt more comfort."

"You think so?"  Mrs.  Vernon sounded eager.

"Then perhaps I will go away for a week or so.  But sup posing she
should die while I am away...?"

"My dear Mrs.  Vernon, no one is going to question your absolute
devotion to your aunt and, in any case, she is unaware of anyone or
anything."

Deborah was standing where she could see her patient's face.  She
winked at it and had an answering wink.  It was on the tip of her
tongue to tell Dr.  Benson that his patient was listening to every
word.

She had her mouth open to utter when she received two winks and such a
glare from the elderly eyes that she could only close her mouth
again.

Dr.  Benson and Mrs.  Vernon went away presently and Deborah perched on
the side of the bed so that the old lady could see her clearly.

"Nothing could be better," she observed in her practical way.

"We shall have a week or more... I'll massage you and feed you up with
chicken broth and beef tea and anything else that will go down.  And
don't take any notice of what they say.  I know you are going to get
better."  She added to clinch the matter, "Sir lames told me so."  Mrs.
Vernon didn't go at once; she came every morning now to enquire as to
her aunt's condition and Deborah told her each time that her patient
had had a quiet night and was taking her feeds.  What she didn't tell
was that she had seen old Mrs.  Vernon's toes twitch when she had been
washing her in bed.  It l someone, preferably Sir James, but that
wouldn't be possible; it would have to be Dr.  Benson and then only
after she had made sure that she hadn't fancied it or given way to
wishful thinking.  Young Mrs.  Vernon went at last, driven away in a
taxi loaded with enough luggage for a month although she had told
Deborah that she would return in a week, or ten days at the latest. 
She had also told Deborah not to force her aunt to take her feeds.

"We must allow the dear old thing to die peacefully," she told
Deborah.

"You are to let me know if you think that she is failing.  Dr.  Benson
will be away for a week or so, by the way, but really it is not
necessary for the doctor to call.  In an emergency you may telephone
Dr.  Ferguson at Lechlade who understands the situation."  As an
afterthought she added, "You will be paid at the end of the month with
the servants."

A remark which Deborah found it unnecessary to reply to--just as well
for rage at such rudeness was choking her.

For the firsi, few days Mrs.  Vernon telephoned each evening.  Then,
since Deborah's report was always the same, she decided to telephone
less often.

"Dr.  Benson will contact me immediately should I be needed," she said
and Deborah forbore from reminding her that Dr.  Benson was away.  It
was four days after young Mrs.  Vernon had left h watched it and tried
not to get over-excited.

"Your foot--it's moving, can you feel it doing that?  You can?  Oh,
Mrs.  Vernon, splendid.  Look, I'm going to prop you up a little and
then I'm going to let the doctor know.  He'll tell me what to do.  Dr.
Benson is still away but I can phone this other man--he'll want to see
you."

She went downstairs and shut herself in the drawing-room and phoned Dr.
Ferguson.  Who wasn't there.

"He is on his rounds; no idea when he'll be back."  The voice was
impatient.

"Has he a car phone?  Will you try it please; it's urgent."

"That's what they all say," said the voice.

"Hang on."  Deborah hung on, bursting with impatience until the voice
told her that there wasn't an answer.

"He's not in his car, is he, then?  Lord knows where he is.

You're wasting your time.  Try somewhere else or ring 999.  "

Deborah replaced the receiver and stood thinking for a-moment.  Mrs.
Vernon had a desk in the sitting- room; perhaps there might be a
telephone book on it, even a directory.  Both were there amidst a
litter of letters, bills and catalogues and right on the top was a
small pad with a phone number scribbled on it and underneath the words
"Sir James Marlow'.

Deborah didn't wait; she made up her mind what t at once an elderly
voice said, "Sir James Marlow's residence

"Can I speak to him, please?  It's urgent--tell him it's about Mrs.
Vernon."  She added, "Tell him it's Miss Everett."

His quiet voice sounded in her ear.

"Miss Everett, how can I help?"

"Look," said Deborah not bothering with the niceties of polite manners,
"Mrs.  Vernon's moving her foot--it began with a twitch but now it's
actually moving and Dr.  Benson is away and the doctor I'm supposed to
get if I need one is out on his rounds-they tried his car phone but of
course he's not in his car.  What shall I do?"

"Are you alone in the house?"

"No, no--I mean Mrs.  Dodd is here and so is Cook.  Mrs.  Vernon--young
Mrs.  Vernon--is in London and I don't know quite where, she-said she
would tele phone.  She's gone for a week or ten days so I expect she'll
ring soon; she's been there four days."

"Go back to your patient, Miss Everett.  I will be with you in rather
less than three hours.  Don't get too excited."

"Of course I'm excited," snapped Deborah.

"Wouldn't you be if you could move your foot?"

A silly remark and rather rude and deserving of his quelling, "Goodbye,
Miss Everett."

She had no time to bother about that now; she sped o regain her calm
before telling her that Sir James Marlow was coming to see her and
since it would be lunchtime by then Mrs.  Vernon should have her
chicken broth a little earlier.

"And I suppose I should warn Cook-do you think he'll want lunch?"

She received a wink and, obedient to it, went down to the kitchen and
explained to Cook, although she didn't say why Sir James was coming;

time enough for that when he had done.

"That'll be nice, Deborah," said Cook.

"You'll have some company for once.  I'll sit with Mrs.  Vernon so's
there's no reason to hurry--you can have a chat with him."

"He may prefer to lunch by himself," said Deborah doubtfully.

"I'll ask him."

She went back upstairs, armed with more flowers from the garden and,
anxious to make a good impression, tied Mrs.  Vernon's hair back with a
pink ribbon before brushing her own carroty locks.  Mrs.  Vernon,
strengthened by the broth and nicely scented with lavender water,
stared up at Sir James's face-as he bent over her.  He had arrived
quietly, bade Deborah a civil good morning and gone at once to the
bedside.

He took the old lady's hand in his and felt its faint movement.

"You're much better," he told her, and received a flurry of winks in
reply.

"I'm going to take a look at you if I may, since Dr.  Benson isn't
here."

He made an unhurried examination, spending a long time with the foot,
testing its reflexes before doing the same with the other foot.

Presently he said, "Mrs.  Vernon, it is too early to be certain of
anything but I believe that you will regain a good deal of your normal
movement, but you must go very slowly.  Your hearing is excellent, is
it not?  Have you tried to speak?"

The old lady grunted.

"Splendid--your voice is there; it will return.  Don't try and force
it.  Miss Everett..."  he changed that to Deborah at the two urgent
winks "Deborah will continue to massage your arms and legs and you must
drink everything which she offers you.  If you were in hospital there
is a good deal more which could be done for you but your niece told me
that you would be unhappy there so we must do the best we can here."

He waited until Deborah arranged the bedclothes tidily.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?"  he asked.

"Yes," said Deborah, 'there's a fire in the dining room--in case; you
would like to stay for lunch?  "

She went over to the bed and told its occupant that they were going
downstairs then and that Mrs.  Dodd would come up at once.

"I'll be up to settle you for your nap presently."

She led the way downstairs, ushered him into the dining-room and went
to the kitchen.

"If Mrs.  Dodd r James wants to give me some instructions."

"What about his lunch?"

asked Cook.

"I'll ask him and come and tell you..."  He was at a window looking out
on to the garden beyond but he turned round as she went into the
room.

"You were kind enough to invite me to lunch-perhaps we could talk at
the same time?"

The too?  You want me to have lunch with you?  I usually have mine on a
tray.  "

"I very much hope that you will keep me company."

"Yes, well, if you say so--I'll tell Cook."  She whisked herself back
to the kitchen to tell her and then rejoined him.

"I'm so sorry but I don't know where Mrs.  Vernon keeps her sherry--and
I'm not sure if she would want me to--what I mean is, I'm a servant..."
She went pink under his amused look.

"I have to drive back to London presently..."

"Oh, tten you won't mind drinking lemonade or something like that."

Sir James, who hadn't drunk lemonade for very many years, agreed that
that would be an excellent choice.

Cook, without young Mrs.  Vernon's sharp eye upon her, had conjured up
a splendid meal: soup, chicken pie with a winter salad, and a steamed
pudding, as light as a feather with jam sauce and cream.  Deborah
enjoyed every morsel, aware that young Mrs.  Vernon a of her aunt's
attendant sitting at the same table as Sir James and eating such an
excellent meal.

Over the chicken pie she judged it the time to ask a few questions.

"Is Mrs.  Vernon going to get quite better again?  And will it take a
long time?"

"Not quite better, I'm afraid, but possibly able to walk with a Zimmer
frame, sit in a chair, get around in a wheelchair and have the use of
her hands.  Probably the left hand will be weaker than the right.  As
to her speech, it may be indistinct and slow.  I see no reason why she
should not enjoy life once more, though.  When is Mrs.  Vernon
returning?"

"I don't know."

"And Dr.  Benson?"

"I wasn't told precisely."  She took a breath, "I'm sorry if I did the
wrong thing phoning you Sir James, but I didn't know what to do."  He
accepted a second helping-of pie.

"You did the right thing, Miss Everett.  I shall contact Dr.  Benson at
the earliest opportunity and suggest further treatment.  How long are
you to remain here?"

"I've no idea.  Someone I know is young^ Mrs.  Vernon's aunt, and Mrs.
Vernpn was finding it hard work coping with her aunt--there was only
the district nurse coming in each day."  She hesitated, "I needed work
and so I came here."

"You have no plans at the moment?  No intention of marrying?"

"No, none at all."  She gave him a questioning look.

"I do not ask out of idle curiosity," he told her with a smile.

"I was anticipating Mrs.  Vernon's partial recovery and her need for a
companion."

"Oh, I see.  But I think that if she got better Mrs.  Vernon might want
to look after her again."

"Perhaps.  We shall see.  You have no need to say anything to Mrs.
Vernon or Dr.  Benson.  I will find the means of communicating with
them at the first opportunity."

They ate their pudding while he talked casually about this and that,
interposinga gentle question here and there so that Deborah, off her
guard and relaxed, told him a great deal more than she would have
wished.

He left presently after another brief visit to the old lady and
Deborah, her hand in his large reassuring grasp, wished that they could
meet again.

"You must be daft, my girl," she told herself, watching the car
disappear down the drive.

"He'll not even remember my name in a month's time."

Three days went by in which Mrs.  Vernon's twitchings and movements
became most satisfactorily more frequent.  Deborah, eager to tell
someone about it, was delighted to see Dr.  Benson's car coming up the
drive on the fourth morning.  He entered the room with a jovial good
morning and said, "What's all this I hear from Sir James?  He has asked
me to go up to London , I must say, and most gratifying."

Who for?  wondered Deborah under her breath and, at his request, gave a
succinct account of Mrs.  Vernon's improvement.

"How delighted your niece will be."  He addressed himself to his
patient, who stared back at him.

"It is most unfortunate that I do not know exactly where she is staying
but Sir James has undertaken to find her.  I only trust that she is
sufficiently improved in health to come home and resume her special
responsibilities."

Neither of his companions had anything to say to this, Mrs.  Vernon
because she wasn't capable of doing so, Deborah because she could think
of no suitable reply.  Instead she asked if she should rearrange the
bedclothes so that he might examine his patient.

"Most satisfactory," he remarked when he had finished.

"Of course we shall know more in a week or so and in the meantime I
will go and see Sir James.  He finds it a most interesting case."  He
glanced at Deborah.

"And this is due largely to your care and sharp eyes, Deborah.  Mrs.
Vernon will be delighted when she hears the news."  She didn't
contradict him but escorted him down to the drawing-room and gave him
coffee while she wondered just how Sir James was going to find young
Mrs.  Vernon; perhaps they moved in the same social circle, whatever
that meant.  She conjured up a picture'd escorting some elegant beauty
to dine at the Savoy or the Ritz and seeing Mrs.  Vernon, presumably
with her husband, seated close by.  What would be easier than passing
on the good news?  She was forced to abandon this colourful fantasy in
order to give her full attention to Dr.  Benson who was reiterating
what she must and must not do.

It was three days before young Mrs.  Vernon, accompanied by her
husband, returned home.  Deborah had just finished making Mrs.  Vernon
comfortable for the morning when Mrs.  Dodd came to fetch her.

"I'm to stay," she said breathlessly because she had hurried up the
stairs.

"Mrs.  Vernon wants to see you.  Got here not ten minutes ago.  Cook's
in a fine temper, I can tell you not having been told and nothing much
in the house.

She went over to the elderly lady and looked at her.

"Morning, Mrs.  Vernon, love.  Getting better, are you?"  "I'll be back
as soon as I can," said Deborah and hurried down the back stairs and
into the hall.

The drawing-room door was open and young Mrs.  Vernon was standing in
the centre of the room.  She turned round as Deborah went in,
exclaiming peevishly, "What's all this I hear?  I saw Sir James in
London; he tells me that my aunt is recovering from her stroke.  I must
say this is quite unexpected..."

"Mrs.  Vernon is moving quite a lot--she is unable o enjoy her diet.
She really is getting better."

"What's this I hear about you telephoning Sir James?  The very
idea--you appear to have overreached yourself."

"Dr.  Benson was away and his deputy couldn't be reached; I thought it
urgent enough to telephone Sir James who had seen Mrs.  Vernon and
would tell me what to do."

"There was absolutely no need for that.  My aunt's improvement is
probably a flash in the pan--all this excitement is so bad for me and
just as I was beginning to relax.  I shall have to speak to my
husband.

He agrees with me that this is all very upsetting for my aunt.  " She
turned sharply as Florrie opened the door.

"Sir James Marlow, ma'am," and stood aside to let him pass.

He glanced from Mrs.  Vernon's angry face to Deborah's pallor.

"Mrs.  Vernon, } am on my way to Bristol and have taken the opportunity
of calling to see you.  I believe that Dr.  Benson is on his way here?
We might perhaps take another look at your aunt together and discuss
her future, for, most happily, r'believe her to have one."  He had
shaken hands as he spoke and then turned to Deborah.

"Miss Everett behaved with great good sense in calling me; she is to be
commended..."

He smiled at Deborah and added suavely, "Your husband is here?  We
might have a talk presently."

Mrs.  Vernon had pulled herself together.

"How very good of you to call.

Sir James.  We should be most grateful if you would take a look at my
aunt.  " She smiled at Deborah, her eyes like flint.

"And of course we are indebted to Deborah for her splendid care."

Mr.  Vernon and Dr.  Benson came in together and Mrs.  Vernon said,
"You may go, Deborah.  Send Mrs.  Dodd downstairs at once and tell her
to bring the coffee."

Deborah went without saying anything, her quiet face showing nothing of
her feelings, only her eyes were quite startlingly blue; Sir James,
opening the door for her, noticed that.

Later they all came upstairs and young Mrs.  Vernon fluttered around
the bed, tugging the bedclothes and twitching the pillow under her
aunt's head until Sir James asked her quietly if she would allow him to
examine her aunt.  Mr.  Vernon went away then and his wife stayed only
long enough to watch the return of : mobility in' her aunt.  One side,
Sir James pointed out, had much stronger reflexes than the other but
that was to be expected; only time would tell how great the improvement
would be.

"Yes, well--perhaps you will join us downstairs when you are ready, Sir
James."  She went away leaving the two doctors to nod and murmur and
move their wise heads while Deborah moved quite quietly out of earshot.
She would dearly have loved to know what they were saying.

Presently Sir James addressed himself to his patient.

"Dr.  Benson and I are of the opinion that a period of rest is all that
is required for you Mrs.  Vernon, preferably somewhere where you can
sit out of doors whenever possible.  You will need the services of the
physiotherapist and someone to look after you but life must be quiet
and without worry of any kind.  Dr.  Benson and I are going downstairs
now to discuss this with your niece and her husband so I will wish you
goodbye.  Dr.  Benson will inform you if I am needed again."

He smiled at Deborah as he went and she watched his enormous back
disappear out of the door with a feeling of despair.  They would send
the old lady to some kind of home and she would be out of a job but,
more than that, she would never know if old Mrs.  Vernon fulfilled the
doctor's hopes.  Her niece didn't like her and would take the first
opportunity to dismiss her.  She composed her troubled face into
serenity and went to sit by the old lady to gossip brightly about the
future.

In the drawing-room Sir James, with guile, charm and an iron
determination, was getting his own' "way On their way downstairs Dr.
Benson had mentioned that the old lady owned a cottage: " A charming
place but rather far away on the estuary near Kingsbridge-secluded but
near enough for the usual medical services.  "

An ideal solution to the problem of Mrs.  Vernon's's in peaceful
surroundings and she stood a good chance of taking up some kind of life
again.  And in the meantime Mrs.  Vernon would be able to have the
chance to recover from her weeks of nursing and anxiety.

Her present attendant could continue with her since she was accustomed
to her and arrangements could be made for the local doctor to attend
her and for her to have physiotherapy.

Mrs.  Vernon opened her mouth to refuse, caught her husband's eye and
closed it again.

"It could be arranged," said Mr.  Vernon, middle-aged and anxious to
have the tiresome affair settled.  His aunt had money of her own, a
substantial fortune which he would inherit, and since it seemed likely
that she wouldn't live for many more years it would be very convenient
to have her out of the house.  Her will was safely in the hands of his
solicitor and since she was unable to write he saw no danger there. 
The girl Deborah might prove a nuisance, coaxing money from the old
lady, but he could soon put a stop to that.  Sir James watched his face
and guessed what he was thinking.

"Of course, your aunt could remain here; it would mean moving her to a
downstairs room so that later on she could be wheeled into the garden."
A remark which served to make up Mrs.  Vernon's mind for her.

"She shall go to the cottage," she declared.

"It will be a great nuisance arranging her removal but if it is h
trouble Sir James's eyes gleamed beneath their lids but all he said
was, " I shall be glad to consult with Dr.  Benson when he considers
Mrs.  Vernon fit to be moved.  " He then made his goodbyes gravely and
drove himself away.  He had done what he could for Mrs.  Vernon and for
the carroty-haired girl; he had no doubt that they would both be a
great deal happier in the cottage than they were shut away in that
upstairs room.

CHAPTER THREE

A month passed before Dr.  Benson judged it was time to consult Sir
James again.  Mrs.  Vernon was sitting propped up in bed now with quite
a lot of movement in her arms and hands and dangling her legs over the
side of the bed under Deborah's anxious eye.  There had been talk of a
physiotherapist coming twice a week, but it had come to nothing, so she
had followed Dr.  Benson's instructions and massaged and rubbed and
encouraged the old lady.  Her speech was returning too, slurred and
almost unintelligible, and each day she laboriously wrote little
messages in a shaky hand, and all these little miracles were ignored by
her niece, who visited her each morning, asked how she was and went
away again.

Deborah, asking for a half-day so that she might go to Lechlade and do
some necessary shopping, had been treated to a tirade 'concerning the
pleasant life she led with almost nothing to do, her tiresome habit of
asking for this and that that the old lady needed when everyone knew
that they were quite unnecessary, but she stuck to her guns in her
quiet way and got her afternoon off.

"You're nothing but a little prig," snapped Mrs.

Vernon as she went to the door.

"Too good to be true--I wouldn't trust you further than my arm."

Deborah did her best to forget the unkindness of that remark and took
herself off on the local bus; she had her wages and since she had had
almost no chance to spend any of them she planned to lay her money out
on clothes more suitable to the time of year than the suit and elderly
dresses she had brought with her.

Lechlade was a pleasant town; she wished that she had the time to
explore it but the bus returned at five o'clock and she had only a
couple of hours or so.  She found a shop which suited her needs
exactly. Hardly the height of fashion, but with a good selection of the
kind of clothes she had in mind.  She spent a long time there and came
out on to the street laden and content.  Two cotton dresses, a denim
skirt, a couple of tops and a casual jacket, a meagre wardrobe but more
than she had had for some time.  She bought sandals too before having
tea in a cafe and going back in the bus.

Back with old Mrs.  Vernon, she displayed her purchases--they didn't
look much but the old lady mum bled her approval and Deborah regaled
her with the details of her afternoon.

"When we are at the cottage and you have your wheelchair we'll go
shopping together she promised.

She put on the skirt and one of the blouses the very next day since it
was the end of April and pleasantly c apron she wore when she gave
Mrs.  Vernon her bed bath but it gave her a nice feeling, wearing
something new.  It was a pity she didn't have time to take the apron
off as Dr.  Benson and Sir James came into the room.  She hadn't
expected them and no one had warned her.  She was thankful that Mrs. 
Vernon was ready for her day, her hair brushed and in a fresh nightie. 
She herself, she was only too aware, looked a fright in the ill-fitting
pinny and with her hair coming loose from its bun and curling around
her cheeks.

They wished her good morning and Sir James asked quietly, "You did not
know that we were coming?"

She shook her head.

"No, Mrs.  Vernon hasn't had her massage and she hasn't dangled her
legs..."

"Excellent, for now we can see her progress for ourselves."  Sir James
flashed her a friendly smile.

"I have an excellent report from Dr.  Benson."

> The doctor's examination was lengthy and very thorough.  Finally, Sir
James straightened himself to his full height.

"I am of the opinion that Mrs.  Vernon is fit enough to travel to the
cottage in Devon.  All arrangements must be made, of course, so that
she is conveyed there with the least possible stress to herself.  The
local doctor must be informed and the cottage must be made ready for
her."  He glanced at Deborah, standing quietly by the bed.

"It would be ideal if Miss Everett were to go there first and make s
Vernon..."

"I'm sure that could be arranged.  We might discuss it with Mrs. Vernon
when we go downstairs.  She will be only too glad to arrange whatever
is necessary for the well-being of her aunt."

Deborah kept her eyes on the bed, the carroty lashes sweeping her
cheeks.  Mrs.  Vernon junior wouldn't be glad at all but it looked as
though Sir James would persuade her.

Which he did, for she came upstairs later that day in order to tell
Deborah and her aunt what had been arranged.  Deborah was to travel
down by rail and open up the cottage, fetch provisions, see that the
gas and electricity had been turned on, put the place in order and be
ready to receive the old lady when she arrived

"You will have to make your own way there," said Mrs.  Vernon.

"Train, I suppose although I believe you won't get further than
Totnes-there will be buses--you can find out when you get there."

Not very satisfactory, reflected Deborah; on the other hand once they
were there it would be worth all the hassle.  " " You will be given
your fare,^ said Mrs.  Vernon as she left the room.

"I'll let you know when you are to go--two days before the ambulance
should give you ample time to get the place ready."

It was another three days before Deborah was told that she was to leave
on the following day.

"Heaven g Mrs.  Vernon.

"I have arranged for the district nurse to come, of course; I am not
strong enough to look after my aunt, as you well know.  Pack whatever
you think she may need and leave it ready; you can take your suitcase
with you."

All of which Deborah passed on to her patient be fore setting to and
packing for the old lady.  She had already prudently sorted out what
she thought might be needed.

She didn't like leaving old Mrs.  Vernon and she dreaded the journey
before her--bus to Swindon, train to Bristol where she would have to
change, and go on to Exeter, where she would change yet again for
Totnes and from there hopefully there would be a bus.  She set off
early in the morning with a packet of sandwiches from Cook, an apple
from Mrs.  Dodd and the memory of old Mrs.  Vernon's unhappy face very
vivid in her mind.  Young Mrs.  Vernon had given her money for her fare
and sufficient to buy a supply of food for the cottage with the
injunction that she was to keep 'a strict account of what she spent.

"This whole thing is nonsense," she declared.

"Much better to have left my aunt in peace; this upheaval will kill
her."  To which Deborah made no reply.

The bus took a long time to get to Swindon but it stopped outside the
station so that she caught her train.  It would take less than an hour
to get to Bristol o get the Exeter train.  Dr.  Benson, to her
surprise, had written out the times of the trains for her and the
journey, although long, had been well planned.  She got off the train
at Bristol and crossed over the platform to where the train to Exeter
would leave. Her case was heavy and she would have liked a cup of
coffee but there wasn't much time before the train left and the plat
form was crowded. She put the case down and looked around her for a
porter or someone who could tell her this was indeed the right train,
but there wasn't one in sight.  She put down her hand to pick up her
case once more, but it wasn't there;

Sir James Marlow, standing just behind her, had it.

"I was afraid I would miss you" he told her casu ally.

"The car's outside; come along."

"Where to?"  She was so pleased to see him that she felt quite giddy
with gladness but she wasn't going to be hustled into something she
knew nothing about.  Beinga polite girl, she added, "Good morning, Sir
James."

"Dr.  Benson mentioned that you would be on this train and I am on my
way to Plymouth.  It seemed worth coming along to see if you were
here."

"I'm not going to Plymouth," said Deborah.

"Don't split hairs, Deborah--I may call you Deborah?  I have to pass
within a few miles of South Pool and it is not any trouble to drop you
off on my way."

He had a hand under her elbow, urging her gently but firmly the way she
had come and then out of the station.

"Such a tedious journey by train if you are not able to catch the
direct one," he observed placidly, 'and I should imagine you might have
difficulty in finding a bus from Totnes.  "

He opened the car door as he spoke and shoved her gently inside, put
her case in the boot and got in beside her.

"It will be pleasant to have someone to talk to," he told her.

"Do you know Devon at all?"

"Torquay--we used to go there when I was a little girl.  You're sure
you don't mind?  It may make you late in Plymouth."

"No, no, I have a consultation there in the morning;

I'm not in any hurry today.  "

It took time to get out of Bristol and on to the motorway but once on
that he drove steadily, not saying much, until they reached a service
station.

"Cof fee?"  he asked her and when she nodded ushered her > into a
restaurant, found her a table and ordered coffee.  They had to wait
some time for it and he talked idly about nothing much, studying her as
he did so.  She had no looks to speak of, he reflected, although she
had beautiful eyes and a lovely clear skin.  Her hair was eye-catching,
certainly, but she wore it bundled into a bun, which, although neat,
did nothing to enhance her looks.  He wondered why he had gone to some
inconvenience to drive her to South Pool; he supposed it was pity, for
she wasn't getting much fun l of trouble for old Mrs.  Vernon--and yet
she wouldn't thank him for pitying her.  Under that quiet exterior he
sensed that there was a determined young woman lurking.  If she were to
discover that Dr.  Benson, at his request, had given him the
particulars of her journey she would probably get up and walk away and
thumb a lift for the rest of the journey rather than stay with him.  He
couldn't for the life of him think what had possessed him to arrange to
drive her there other than pity and then concluded that he didn't pity
her after all.  He was sorry for her and he admired the way she kept
cool under Mrs.  Vernon's evident dislike.  He was a kind man and he
sensed that she wasn't happy.  Other girls might have walked out on
Mrs.  Vernon weeks ago and found themselves a better job, but she
wasn't other girls.  He shrugged the thought away as the coffee arrived
and began an easy flow of talk calculated to put her at her ease.

Presently he drove on, talking casually from time to time, and Deborah
began to enjoy herself.  The big car was comfortable, devouring the
road with silent ease, and her companion's imperturbable manner was
soothing.  She reflected wryly that she hadn't been like a normal
person for a long time--Walter and Barbara had made sure of that and
young Mrs.  Vernon had continued in the same manner.  She found herself
wishing that she had done her face and hair more e denim skirt and
cotton top, and, more than that, hadn't spent several years looking
after a cold-hearted stepfather and thus missed the opportunity of
meeting people of her own age.  Not that Sir James was her age; she had
already decided that he must be nearer forty than thirty, certainly
married and with children.

"Do you live in London?"  she asked him.

"Yes--it's convenient for the hospitals, but I do have a small place in
the country."

She wanted to ask where that might be but some thing in his placid
voice stopped her; instead she're marked about the charm of the
countryside they were passing through and then lapsed into silence.

She had plenty to think about; there were provisions to get in, beds to
make up, the cottage to air and warm and make welcome.  "We will stop
for lunch," she was told by Sir James.

"Buckfastleigh is just ahead of us; we turn off there and, if I
remember rightly, there is a pub close by."

It was more of a road house than a pub, nicely furnished and warm and
-surprisingly well filled with customers.  Deborah chose soup and a
roll and a cup of coffee; she was hungry enough to eat more than that
but she supposed that her companion wouldn't want to waste time sitting
over a meal.  They were on their way again in less than half an hour; a
country road with high hedges and a great many corners and Sir James,
with no sign of impatience, slowed his pace.

"Totnes next," he told her, 'and then Kingsbridge-we shall be there in
an hour.  "

It was rather less than that as he went through Kingsbridge, following
the river out of the town and then turning off to take a country road
along its further bank, the road narrowing close to the water's edge
and hemmed in by trees and undergrowth.  Deborah wondered uneasily what
would happen if they were to meet another car; the Bentley was al ready
taking up more than its share of the road.  They met nothing, although
they passed a number of houses, well away from the road, among the
trees.  They were of a comfortable size and all of them had at least
one garage.

The road left the river, going uphill and then levelling out into the
village street, lined with houses and old cottages and with a large
church looming beyond them.

"The first turning on the left; it's a cul-de-sac.  The end
cottage--called Frog Cottage."

Sir James slowed the Bentley and eased the car through the narrow
opening' which widened into a quite wide expanse of grass, ringed by
charming cottages leaning against each other, and all different.

Several of them had their doors open and a variety of faces looked out
at them as he stopped before the last cottage along one side.  It was
larger than its neigh l latticed windows.

"I have to fetch the key from the neighbour," said Deborah, and
prepared to get out, to be stopped by Sir James.

"I'll fetch it--wait here."

He came back presently after a brief conversation with a cosily plump
woman, the key in his hand.  He opened the car door, offered Deborah
the key and stood beside her while she unlocked the door.  The key was
large and heavy and he took it from her and hung it on a nail just
inside the door, put there, it seemed, for that very purpose.  The door
opened into the sitting-room, quite a large, low-ceilinged room, rather
dark but nicely furnished with small old-fashioned chairs, a sofa and a
round table under the window.  There was a door at the back of the room
with an old-fashioned latch and beyond a small narrow kitchen well
equipped and in turn leading to a glassed-in sun-room with a door into
the small garden.  The stairs were behind another door in the kitchen
and Deborah said worriedly, "But Mrs.  Vernon must stay down here..."

Sir James had gone back into the sitting-room and opened yet another
door opposite the fireplace.  It was smaller than the sitting-room but
nicely furnished as a bedroom.

"Ideal," he observed.

"As soon as the local doctor calls, get him to borrow a wheelchair--the
door's wide enough.  Mrs.  Vernon won't need to stay r she can sit
outside.  Let us go upstairs."

There were two rooms upstairs, both small but here again nicely
furnished and between them there was a very small bathroom.  They stood
on the tiny landing between the rooms and looked around then.

"Quite agreeable and very adequate," said Sir James, and Deborah
agreed.  They were distinctly overcrowded in the small space but just
with Mrs.  Vernon and herself there would be ample room.  They went
downstairs again and she opened a window--the cottage was clean even if
dusty, but it needed a good airing.  She would see to that as soon as
Sir James had gone.  "It seems rather late for tea," he remarked,
leaning against the kitchen door, 'but I imagine the pub's open--it's
just turned five o'clock.  We'll go and have a meal before you start
your housework.  "

"But you'll be so late," began Deborah.

"Plymouth is no distance;

besides, I'm hungry.  " The pub was simply a stone's throw away, tucked
neatly into the side of the village street with a small courtyard
leading to.  its door.  Sir James paused be forel they entered.

"Have you food with you?  Tea, coffee...?"

"No, I thought I'd get it in the morning."  He glanced across the
street to a shop, Post Office and greengrocer's all rolled into one.

"Let us shop first.  Were you given money by Mrs.  Vernon?"

"Oh, yes, and I'm to be sent money each week, enough for us both..."

"How much?"

She told him and he raised his brows although he said nothing.

"You have a list?"

She took it from her pocket and he glanced at its length.

"Well, if you were to buy sufficient for your breakfast.  Say we do
that?"  The shopkeeper was helpful; milk, bread, tea and sugar, butter
and eggs were produced without haste while Deborah was questioned about
her arrival.  Of course everyone knew old Mrs.  Vernon, she hadn't been
back for several years but she wasn't forgotten.  It would be nice to
see her again.

"You're looking after her, love?  And your husband here?"

"He's not my husband," said Deborah, very pink in the face, not daring
to look at Sir James, sitting comfortably on a sack of potatoes and
taking no part in the conversation.

She paid presently and he took the plastic bag from her and walked her
back to the pub.  It was small inside, with tables dotted around, a bar
and a cheerful little fire burning in the old-fashioned grate.  Tea was
no problem, they were told, and how about something to eat?  The tea
came and with it a dish of pasties and a salad.  The pasties were
delicious and they emptied the dish between them and if Sir James,
drinking his second cup of strong tea, found the meal rather dif .

They didn't actually talk much and all the while Deborah was conscious
that this was the last time she would see him.  It was unlikely that he
would be called in for a consultation again; Mrs.  Vernon was doing
well and Dr.  Benson would look after her.

Presently they went back to the cottage and Sir James got into his car
after wishing her a casual goodbye, dismissing her little speech of
thanks with easy good manners.

She watched the Bentley turn into the street and went back into the
cottage, tidied away the food, and then went from room to room, making
sure that she knew where everything was.  The place was well equipped,
there was a telephone, a minute electric cooker and electric fires in
the bedrooms.  The sitting- room had an open fire and when she searched
outside the sun-room she found kindling and coal.  A fire would be cosy
and welcoming for Mrs.  Vernon when she arrived She opened windows,
turned on the water and poked around the linen cupboard on the tiny
landing; there were sheets and pillowcases and blankets in abundance
and a couple of eider downs She made up a bed in one of the upstairs
bedrooms, unpacked her case and went downstairs again to make a pot of
tea before she went to bed.  It had been a long day-- a long one for
Sir James too; she hoped that he had arrived safely at wherever he was
going.  Was he going to a hospital there, she wondered, or to stay with
 , she told herself, and went to bed.

There was very little time to think about him during the next day; she
did spare a few moments while she was Hooveringand dusting and getting
the little place ready, but being a practical girl she didn't allow
them to deter her thoughts from practical ones and as soon as she had
everything just so she took the shopping basket from behind the kitchen
door and went across to the village stores, then came back laden, put
everything away and sat down to a late lunch and then went into the
garden and picked forget-me-nots and grape hyacinths and pansies and
put a bowl of them in Mrs.  Vernon's room and another one in the
sitting- room and then, after careful thought, hauled the bed away from
the wall and moved it so that its head faced the door.  Mrs.  Vernon,
lying in bed, would be able to see into the sitting-room through the
open door.

Pleased with her efforts, she sat down to make a careful list of her
purchases.  Mrs.  Vernon would want to see it when she came.  She was
up early the next day.  No one had told her at what time they would
arrive but she thought it un likely that they would reach South Pool
before the end of the afternoon; she made scones for tea, boiled a
small chicken and made broth and then pounded the meat to a cream.

She made a jelly and a nice old fashioned junket and set a tray for
tea.

By three o'clock she was ready, very neat in her cotton dress and a
cardigan, a brisk little fire in the grate, Mrs.  Vernon's room nicely
warmed.

It was almost five o'clock when the ambulance turned cautiously into
the little cul-de-sac.  She went out to meet it, looking for another
car, but none followed it.  Young Mrs.  Vernon would be inside the
ambulance, she supposed, and went to its doors as they were opened.

The district nurse got out first, "I thought we'd never get here," she
exclaimed to Deborah.

"The old lady has withstood the trip very well, though."

"You must all be very tired," said Deborah.

"I thought Mrs.  Vernon would come too."

"Not her.  Said she wouldn't be able to stand the journey..."  The
district nurse made a face.

"Is everything ready?"

"Come in and see..."  She opened the door wide and ushered the nurse
inside and went back to the ambulance.  The ambulance men had the
stretcher out now and she bent over Mrs.  Vernon.

"It's lovely to see you again--and it's a heavenly cottage, isn't it?
Come inside and see your room."

It was surprisingly easy getting her inside and.  it was simple to get
her into bed--although she was tired she was no longer a dead weight.

Deborah made her comfortable, promised her a cup of tea and went to the
kitchen.

"Tea's ready; you'll all have some, won't you?  Would you mind being
Mother while I e doctor, do you think?"

"I'll have a good look at her, dear, before we go.  Unless there's
something not right I should think it would do if you get him out here
tomorrow morning.  You don't mind being here alone with her?"

"Not a bit."  Deborah added thoughtfully, "I've always been alone with
her, if you see what I mean."

"Indeed I do.  Here are the men--they'll want their tea.  You go and
see to Mrs.  Vernon."

The old lady was very quiet but it was a contented quietness.  She held
Deborah's hand for a moment and gave it a weak squeeze.  When Deborah
asked her if she was happy to be there her wink was simply ecstatic and
although she could only mumble it was a happy mumble.  The nurse came
presently and together they made Mrs.  Vernon comfortable and the nurse
took her blood-pressure and gave it as her opinion that there was
nothing to worry about.

"A good night's sleep and get the doctor to see her in the morning,
dear."

"Are you going back this evening?"

"Yes, we must, but we shall stop on the way and have a meal."  The two
men came in then to say goodbye; they were a cheerful pair, cracking
mild jokes for the old lady's benefit and patting Deborah on the back
in a fatherly fashion.  When they had gone the little house was very
quiet and within minutes Mrs.  Vernon had o unpack the case which had
come with her and clear away the tea things.  She had just finished
when the phone rang and she snatched it off the hook as she didn't want
to wake Mrs.  Vernon.  It would be young Mrs.  Vernon, of course.  "Has
Mrs. Vernon arrived safely?"  asked Sir James.

"Oh, it's you you are kind, how nice," said Deborah idiotically.

"She came about an hour ago by ambulance.  The district nurse came with
her."

"She stood the journey well?"

"Nurse said she had, she checked everything before she went away and
told me to get the doctor in the morning."

"Ah, yes--you did tell me his name...?"

"Did I?  It's Wright, he lives at Chillingford--that's the village on
the main road."

Sir James gave a grunt.

"And Mrs.  Vernon, has she telephoned you yet?"

"No."  She tried to think of something to add to that and couldn't.

"You had better ring her yourself.  Have you settled in?  You are not
nervous?"

"We shall be very comfortable," said Deborah sedately, 'and I'm not
nervous, thank you.  It is kind of you to ring.  "

"Mrs.  Vernon is an interesting case.  Goodnight, Deborah."  She hadn't
admitted, even to herself, that she was e was after all still needing
a great deal of care and attention--but now Sir James had phoned and
she felt all of a sudden perfectly capable of dealing with any
situation which might arise.  She went to look at Mrs.  Vernon and
found her awake, so she sat down by the bed and told her about Sir
James.

Mrs.  Vernon croaked and grunted and tapped Deborah's hand holding
hers.

"Is anything wrong?"  asked Deborah.

She had a reassuring wink and another grunt which she liked to think
was a laugh.

She phoned young Mrs.  Vernon presently.

"There was no need to disturb us now," said that lady.

"To morrow morning would have done.  Don't telephone us unless it is
urgent."

She hung up before Deborah could ask what she considered urgent.  Dr.
Wright came in the morning, a young man with a nice face and a friendly
mamier.  Deborah was un aware that Sir James had telephoned him on the
previous evening and after introducing himself and explaining his
interest in Mrs.  Vernon, had suggested that Dr.  Wright should visit
her as soon as possible.

"And I would be most interested to know how she goes on if you should
find the time to keep me in formed."  Deborah was delighted to see
him.

Dr.  Wright had been more than willing; he had heard of Sir James
Marlow, who had attained the peak'd every intention of doing himself.
He had written down the telephone number he was offered with the
promise of keeping Sir James informed at regular intervals and drove to
South Pool the next day.

Mrs.  Vernon had had a good night and was quite ready for him, lying
back on her pillows in a fresh nightie and with her hair nicely
arranged.  She watched him come into the cottage and introduce himself
to Deborah before they came through the open door to stand one on each
side of her bed.

Nothing would bring beauty to Deborah's ordinary features, but her eyes
shone and her skin had the smoothness and perfection of a small
child's.  Even her hair, released from its restricting bun and tied
back with a ribbon, had taken on a softer shade of carrot.  Dr.  Wright
thought she looked sensible although he didn't much care for the
hair.

He took pains with Mrs.  Vernon and gave the opinion that after a day
or two's rest she might sit on a chair for an hour or two each day.  He
looked round the room.

"You haven't anything suitable, though..."

"If you tell me where I can get the.  Red Cross I'll borrow one," said
Deborah.

"You mean one of those chairs with a kind of tray in front."

"That's right, and I should think that in a week or so, if the weather
is fine, Mrs.  Vernon might go out in a wheelchair.  I think it might
be best if I get the'd exercise and someone to help her with her
speech."

He had a cup of coffee and went away and Deborah sat down and explained
everything to Mrs.  Vernon.

"And he will come again at the end of the week."  She said, "And by
then I think the physio people will have fixed up something."

She was right.  By the end of the first week a nice motherly soul had
paid them a visit--Mrs.  Denny, and she would be coming twice a week
for some gentle physio and she would give a hand getting Mrs.  Vernon
out of her bed and into the chair which had arrived with commendable
promptitude.  Dr.  Wright had been again, the milkman called each
morning and Deborah nipped over to the shop, knowing that the nice
plump neighbour would keep an eye on the old lady.  Life was
unexpectedly fun, although she had no time to herself, only at bedtime
when Mrs.  Vernon, safely asleep^ no longer seeded her.  She should,
she supposed, make some plans for the future; Mrs.  Vernon was making
great strides now and once she was no longer completely dependent on
other people, she would return to her niece's house, that young Mrs. 
Vernon had made clear to Deborah, and there had been no mention of
Deborah going with her, but for the moment she was happy, happier than
she had been for a long time, and if now and then she allowed herself
to think of Sir James in a wistful fashion she a bit tired.  They had
been there for two weeks when Mrs.  Denny suggested that Deborah might
like a few hours to herself.

"There's a good bus to Kingsbridge and it's no distance, and I can take
my lunch-hour here as well as anywhere.  I'll be here in good time for
you to catch the bus in two days' time."

Deborah had two weeks' wages in her pocket--at least the Vernons'
solicitor sent her a regular weekly cheque for food and her wages.  She
had kept a meticulous account of all the household expenses which she
was required to send to him each week, unaware that before long old
Mrs.  Vernon, once she could put pen to paper, would be required to
write a cheque to pay for everything.

Kingsbridge was a charming little town, cheerful in the bright spring
sunshine, and it was delightful to go from shop to shop, looking in the
windows.  Seeinga nice cafe, she had coffee, stocked up on her more
mundane necessities and then went in search of something to wear.

The things she had were nice enough for daily use but she had nothing
fit for any special occasion.  That such a thing was likely to happen
seemed uncertain, but just supposing Sir James should come to see how
Mrs.  Vernon was getting on; it would be satisfying to her deflated ego
if she were looking nice.  She found what she had in mind in one of
the smart's of patterned voile in pleasing shades of green and misty
blue; it flattered her small waist and pretty figure and although it
was more than she had intended to pay she bought it.  She bought some
sandals too--not sensible ones like she wore every day, but high-heeled
trifles which she had to admit she might never wear.  And always at the
back of her mind was the hope that one day Sir James would come and by
some lucky chance she would be wearing them.

One day soon after that he did come, but the lucky chance didn't
stretch quite far enough; she was on her knees giving the fireplace a
good clean, a pinny wrapped around a cotton dress, bare feet in
sensible sandals, her hair tied back and no make-up to speak of on her
face.  Mrs.  Vernon's mumbling made her turn round, to find Sir James
standing by the door, watching her.

Her feeling of intense pleasure at seeing him was immediately replaced
by one of annoyance; she had wanted to be looking her best if and when
he did come and here she was looking her very worst.  She got slowly,
to her feet and wished him good morning in a cold voice.

He appeared not to notice that; his 'good morning' was genial and
casual.

"I'm on my way to Truro," he observed blandly.

"It seemed a good opportunity to call and see how Mrs.  Vernon is
progressing."

"Yes--well, how kind.  She's in her chair."  She u a cup of
coffee--and wash my hands.  " She added, " Mrs.  Vernon talks a little
now and she writes in a notebook.  "

She backed out of the room and flew upstairs to take off the pinny,
brush her hair and retie it with its ribbon and dash powder over her
small nose.  Lookingat her reflection, she could see that it hadn't
made much difference.  When she took the coffee in presently it was to
find Mrs.  Vernon labouring over her notebook and Sir James sitting on
the side of the bed, looking very much at his ease.  He got up and took
the tray from her and pulled up a chair before accepting his mug and a
slice of cake.

"The physiotherapist comes, Mrs.  Vernon tells me--a pleasant person,
it seems."  Not giving Deborah time to answer, he continued, "And Dr.
Wright?"

He gave her such a long stare that she felt her cheeks go red.

"He comes twice a week," adding recklessly, "He's awfully nice; we get
on."

CHAPTER FOUR

deborah wished that she hadn't said that the moment she had; Sir James
all of a sudden became a visiting consultant instead of the casual
friendly visitor.  He said smoothly, "I'm glad to hear that--you must
miss young company here.  I'll call and see him presently and in the
meantime perhaps I might take a look at Mrs.  Vernon."  His impersonal
civility hurt her, she supposed because she had come to regard him as a
friend.  She stood by the bed, where he had laid Mrs.  Vernon, and
watched his intent face as he made a leisurely examination, his large
well-kept hands very gentle.  Presently he stood upright again.

"Excellent," he pronounced.

"I dare say Dr.  Wright will arrange for a wheelchair very shortly.
Mrs.  Vernon is making a splendid recovery."

He sat down again, listening to her mumbled talk with an encouraging
word from time to time, but presently he said goodbye and Deborah went
with him to the door.

"You are not tired?"  he asked her.

"You have time to yourself?  You are a little pale.  Are you to return
with Mrs.  Vernon when she goes back to her niece's house?"

"No--well, I don't know, Dr.  Wright thinks that I should--you see,
she's used to me and I can understand her--but I suppose I'll do
whatever Dr.  Benson wants; he'll be in charge again, I imagine?"  She
peered up at him.

"Not you?"  she asked.

"No, no, this was merely a friendly visit.  I shall not come again
unless I am called in professionally."

She put out a hand, brown and little and rough with housework.

"Then I'll wish you goodbye, Sir James, and thank you very much."  He
took it into his and held it firmly.

"What will you do if you are no longer needed with Mrs.  Vernon?"

Me?  Heavens--oh, I shall find another job.  " For an appalling instant
she visualised the years ahead, going from one job to the next, and
dismissed it firmly.

"You will probably marry," suggested Sir James with remote kindness.

"You would make a good doctor's wife."

She blushed and he sighed gently; Dr.  Wright was a nice young chap and
Deborah had blushed twice at his name.  Sir James wasn't sure why he
felt a vague regret.  As for Deborah, the blush hadn't been for Dr.
Wright; she had at that very moment made the discovery that if she were
to be a doctor's wife she would want Sir James to be that doctor.

Just for the moment nothing and nobody else mattered while she e
suppressed it sternly as a load of nonsense.

She wished him goodbye in a quiet little voice and watched him get into
his car and drive away.  He didn't look at her or wave--all the same,
she waited until the Bentley had edged round the corner into the road
before going back to Mrs.  Vernon.

Mrs.  Vernon looked at her for a long moment, wrote 'sad' on her pad
and waited for Deborah to say something.

Deborah shook her head.

"No, no--how nice to see Sir James again, wasn't it?  He's very pleased
with you; he told me that he found you a very interesting case."

The old lady nodded slowly.  Her wits had never quite deserted her; now
they were sharp enough to wonder if the specialist's interest extended
to Deborah--not that he realised that, of course.  She sighed, a
romantic at heart and wishful to see Deborah happy.

Spring had sidled gently into summer and Mrs.  Vernon was able to do
more' for herself, walk a few steps with the aid of sticks, even make
herself understood when she spoke and was quite happy.  Dr.  Wright
came each week and invariably stayed either for coffee or tea and,
since he was now on excellent terms with Deborah, his visits were the
highlight of their week.  As for Deborah, the soft Devonshire air Hi
and the wholesome food she cooked had combined to round out her small
person in a pleasing fashion and put a healthy colour in her cheeks. 
Mrs.  Vernon, studying her serene face, wondered if she was happy.  She
was always cheerful, ready to talk, and unendingly patient, but there
was a wistfulness about her which the old lady found disquieting.  It
was no life for a young girl, she told Dr.  Wright while Deborah was
getting the coffee; she should be with young people, having a good
time.

"I will be sorry if she should ever leave me," said Mrs.  Vernon, 'but
not, I hope, for the immediate future.  " A hope which was not to be
fulfilled.  A week later, on a lovely early summer morning as the pair
of them sat outside the cottage door, drinking the lemonade Deborah had
made, deciding in a desultory manner what they should have for their
lunch, a car turned into the cul-de-sac, and Mrs.  Vernon's nephew and
niece got out.

Young Mrs.  Vernon gave Deborah a brief nod and bent over her aunt.

"We had such an excellent report from Dr.  Benson--Dr.  Wright has been
sending him a weekly progress report--that we have decided that you are
well enough to return home.  I have arranged a room for you downstairs
and engaged a very good woman to look after you.  The garden is quite
perfect, you know; you will enjoy sitting there."

"No," said her aunt and, because she was deeply disturbed, her speech
became muddled and almost un e was protesting vigorously and took the
matter into her own hands.

No one noticed when she slipped into the cottage and went to the phone.
Dr.  Wright was at home.

"I'll be with you as soon as I can," he promised and she went outside
again.

"Would you like a glass of lemonade or a cup of coffee?"

"Coffee," said young Mrs.  Vernon without bothering to look up.

"We'll have it inside."  She looked round the little square of grass.

"I dare say there are several curious neighbours."

She marched indoors and sat down in the livingroom and after a moment
her husband wheeled his aunt into the house.  Mrs.  Vernon was silent
now but her niece started talkingagain in a wheedling voice.

"We've bought a wheelchair for you Aunt; you can go wherever you like.
Miss Grant--the woman I've engaged for you--is young and strong and has
excellent references."  She broke off as Deborah came in with the
coffee and then fetched their glasses of lemonade from the porch.

She hadn't said a word, for it seemed there was nothing to be said, but
Dr.  Wright would make the final decision.  He came presently, greeted
the visitors pleasantly, accepted coffee and sat down beside the old
lady.

"Dr.  Benson tells us that in your opinion my aunt is fit enough to
return to my home," began Mr.  Vernon e suitable arrangements--fitted
out a room leading on to the terrace, engaged an attendant and bought a
wheelchair so that my aunt will feel free to get about.  "

Dr.  Wright saw nothing wrong with this arrangement, merely remarking
that he would have preferred to have been told about their plans at an
earlier date.

"I presume you do not intend to take Mrs.  Vernon back with you today?
I'm afraid that is something I can't allow.  It's a very long journey;
she must go by ambulance.  I shall also want to examine her very
thoroughly first."

"Naturally.  We had no intention of taking Mrs.  Vernon back with us
today.  Would you agree to an ambulance fetching her in a few days'
time?  I will send the attendant with it; she is a very capable young
woman."

"And Deborah?"  asked Dr.  Wright.

"She can stay for a couple of days and close up this place.  I'm sure
she'll be glad to find another job with younger people."  Young Mrs.
Vernon glanced at Deborah.

"I'll have your things packed up; the ambulance can bring them when it
comes.  There's no need for you to come back to us."

"Does Mrs.  Vernon want to go?"  asked Deborah, speaking at last.

"Of course she wants to be in her own home again; besides, it won't do
for her to become too attached to you."  Young Mrs.  Vernon gave her
tinkling laugh.

"We can't have her leaving the family fortune away from the family, can
we?  I dare say you've done very nicely while you've been here with
her."

She laughed again so that her listeners would think that she was joking
but her words fell into a silence broken by Deborah getting to her
feet.

"That is an abominable thing to say, Mrs.  Vernon, and a very vulgar
one too.  Even if you intended it for a joke..."  She stopped, drew a
deep breath and went on in a colourless fashion, "I will have Mrs.
Vernon ready when the ambulance comes."

Young Mrs.  Vernon had gone very red in the face.

"You do that.  We will go now.  Aunt will want a rest, I dare say,
after all the excitement."

She kissed the old lady's cheek.

"We are so looking forward to having you home again.  You will love
your room..."

It was Mr.  Vernon who shook Deborah's hand and thanked her.

"I must apologise for my wife; she some times says things she doesn't
mean."

He shook Dr.  Wright's hand too, kissed his aunt and went out to the
car and they drove away.

"That was unexpected," observed Dr.  Wright.

"I could have wished for a more leisurely approach.  Still, the proper
arrangements seem to have been made."  He looked at Deborah.

"And although it must be a blow to you since Mrs.  Vernon doesn't
appear to like you it may be for the best if you leave now."

He spoke uncertainly but was reassured by Deborah's quiet.

"Oh, I expect it is a splendid arrangement and Mrs.  Vernon will be
happy with a room on the ground floor."  She took the old lady's hand
in hers.

"You'll enjoy seeing all your friends again," she observed
cheerfully.

Dr.  Wright went away presently with the promise that he would return
the next day and examine his patient and make sure that she was fit for
the journey.  It was only after he had gone that the old lady allowed
the slow tears to trickle down her cheeks.  Deborah wiped them away.

"You hate the idea of going, don't you?"  she said quietly.

"But that's be cause it's all been rather sudden.  We'll have a good
talk about it later.  Now I'm going out to get our lunch and this
afternoon we'll go through the village for a walk and supposing we have
one or two of the neighbours to tea tomorrow?  They've all been so kind
and friendly."

Mrs.  Vernon muttered something about something and Deborah fetched her
pad and pencil.

"What about you?"  wrote Mrs.  Vernon in her shaky hand.

"I'll stay here for a day or two and close up the cottage then I shall
go back to my home for a week or two."

"Your home?"  mumbled Mrs.  Vernon.

"Mother and Father?"

"Brother and sister," said Deborah cheerfully, prepared to lie like a
trooper to keep the old lady happy.

"We live in Hampstead."  Mrs.  Vernon looked less upset and she went
on, "Mrs.  Denny is coming in the morning, isn't she?  While she's here
I'll pop into Kingsbridge; you need one or two things and so do I."

She got their lunch and presently pushed Mrs.  Vernon in her chair
round the village, stopping to tell anyone they knew that they would be
leaving in the next few days and then going back to the cottage to park
Mrs.  Vernon while she went to invite their few neighbours to tea.

They all came, friendly folk who had been kind and helpful to them
both, delighted that Mrs.  Vernon was well enough to return to her
home, assuring Deborah that she would have no trouble finding a job if
she needed one.

With an eye on the old lady, Deborah repeated the fiction that she
would be going to her home for a few weeks, which drew pleased remarks,
for everyone liked her, and the tea party ended in a light-hearted
manner-.  ^ Dr.  Wright came directly after morning surgery the next
day, pronounced his patient well enough to return home and, on the way.
 out, asked Deborah if she had a job to go to.

"This has all happened rather quickly," he told her.

"I feel as though I have been the cause of you losing your job.  What
will you do?"

"I'm going into Kingsbridge when Mrs.  Denny gets here," she told
him.

"When I was there last I saw several notices in shop windows and at the
hotel where I had coffee, all wanting part-time help.  I like it here
and I thought I'd stay until the summer is over."

"You have a home to go to?"  He sounded concerned so she assured him
that she had.

She studied the various notices carefully that after noon; only one of
them offered a live-in job.  The hotel was quite small, overlooking the
water and a short walk from the centre of the town.  It looked
pleasant, she decided as she enquired at the reception desk if she
could see the manager.

He was elderly and very businesslike and she was equally businesslike,
answering his questions in her quiet way, offering Dr.  Wright's name
as a reference, listening attentively as he told her that the work was
temporary--six weeks or so, no longer--that she would clean bedrooms,
help in the kitchen, sort the laundry, help out wherever it was needed
most.  She would share a room with the part-time help and he mentioned
a wage which seemed to her to be generous She would have one free day a
week too.  The.  working hours, he warned her, would be long.

Provided that Dr.  Wright's reference was satisfactory she was to start
in three days' time.  She went back to South Pool with the black bogey
of the future pushed out of sight once more.  Six weeks would give d
save as much money as she could.

Mrs.  Vernon was in cheerful mood when she got back and Mrs.  Denny was
still there.  Deborah displayed her modest purchases, made tea for the
three of them and presently said goodbye to Mrs.  Denny.  The evening
was spent packing Mrs.  Vernon's things while they talked cheerfully
enough.

Mrs.  Vernon, now that she had got over the shock of leaving, was more
cheerful and inclined to reminisce so that Deborah had to pause from
time to time in her packing to sit and listen to her.  Speech was still
difficult; she only hoped the old lady's new attendant and her friends
would be patient.  Young Mrs.  Vernon phoned that evening; the
ambulance would get to the cottage in the early afternoon and Deborah
was to have Mrs.  Vernon quite ready to leave as it would return
immediately.  Mrs. Vernon rang off without saying more.

Deborah was deliberately leisurely in the morning; there was no hurry
over breakfast even though it was a little earlier than usual.  Mrs.
Vernon, in a fresh nightie and dressing-gown since they would be the
most comfortable garments to wear in the ambulance, was given her
morning coffee as usual and settled in a chair while Deborah got an
early lunch.  She had the kettle on boiling to make a cup of tea when
the ambulance crept Off the street and stopped before the door.

The ambulance men were the same pair who had brought them all those
weeks ago and the young woman who got out with them was reassuringly
friendly with a round open face, and a nice smile.

She shook Mrs.  Vernon's hand and introduced her self as Maggie and
then turned a beaming smile on Deborah.

"What a lovely spot; you'll hate to leave it, but Mrs.  Vernon says
you've a good job to go to.  We're supposed to go straight back but
I'll be grateful if you could give me some tips..."

"Of course, and the kettle's just boiling--you'll all like a cup of
tea?"  Fetching the tray, Deborah felt relief that Maggie seemed just
the right kind of person to be with the old lady, and probably tough
enough to stand up to her niece too.

They had their tea and a talk and presently Deborah took a cheerful
leave of Mrs.  Vernon, promising to write to her, even visit her if she
were ever anywhere near the house, and then she watched her stowed care
fully in the ambulance and driven away.

She went back into the cottage and sat down on the nearest chair and
cried her eyes out.  Presently, she got up, mopped her sodden face,
cleared away the tea things and began the task of getting-the little
place ready to close up.  She stripped both beds, for the washing and
ironing would have to be done before she left; she would sleep between
blankets for a couple of nights and do without a tablecloth and
napkin.  She stowed everything into the washing machine and h Maggie
had brought with her.  Everything was there; there hadn't been much
anyway.  She spent the rest of the day cleaning and polishing and
presently had her supper and went to bed.  There would be a lot to do
tomorrow and on the following morning after that she was to present
herself at the hotel and start work.

She was tired by the time she turned the key in the lock for the last
time and went to catch the early morning bus to Kingsbridge.  The
neighbours had been kind, insisting on giving her supper on the
previous evening offer inga bed for the night should she ever need
one.

She had told them that she had a job to go to but she hadn't said
where; now she lugged her two cases to the main street and presently
boarded the half-empty bus.

She remembered to go in through the door at the side when she reached
the hotel and a rather cross- faced woman who said she was the
housekeeper took her to her room and told her to get into the nylon
overall and then come downstairs again so that she might be told her
duties.

Left alone, Deborah surveyed the room.  It was on the top floor with
two windows cheaply curtained, two beds at opposite ends of the room, a
wardrobe, two chairs and a small table.  There was a rug on the floor
and a shelf for books.  Hardly luxury but very clean and airy.  She
left her unpacking for later and r was tidy and went back downstairs.

Her duties, she discovered, were manifold; not only did she have her
own tasks to perform, she was to take over from other domestic staff
whenever they had time off.  The housekeeper fixed her with a beady
eye.

"You will have a day off in the week, of course.  Start work at seven
o'clock in the morning, an hour off in the afternoon and off duty at
ten o'clock unless you're specially needed."  Deborah listened meekly.
She could see that she would be earning every penny of her wages but
that was why she was here, wasn't it?  She shouldered the bag which
contained dusters and polish, cloths and brushes, and made her way to
the bar.  The house keeper would inspect her work at eleven o'clock
when she would have ten minutes' break for a cup of coffee.

The girl she shared her room with--Maisie--was a great girl, already
inclined to stoutness, but she was disposed to be friendly and by
bedtime Deborah was so tired that even Maisie's snores did nothing to
disturb her.  Her cheerful 'good morning' as she shook Deborah awake
was a good start to the day.  Deborah scuttled along to the bathroom at
the end of the passage and then dressed quickly.  There was no need to
do anything to her face; she screwed her hair back and, urged by the
friendly Maisie, went down to the kitchen.  One of the kitchen workers
was already there a which gave them the chance to drill Deborah as to
her morning duties.

They were many and varied but she got through them somehow telling
herself that once she had learnt her way around everything would be
easier.  The guests' breakfasts attended to--trays laid, tea and coffee
ready and fresh tea for the cook on duty, then they were free to have
their own meal, which meant that Deborah learned that Maisie worked
only four days a week.

"So you'll have the room to yourself while I'm at home," she said.

"Only mind and get yourself an alarm clock," she warned her.  By the
time her free day came, Deborah was almost too tired to enjoy it.  Her
feet ached with so much running about and although she had settled down
into the routine of the hotel it was hard work and the days were
over-long.  The free time during the afternoon wasn't long enough for
her to get to the shops; be sides, by then she only wanted to take off
her shoes and sit and do' nothing

All the same, she was determined to make the most of her day off.  She
found a hairdresser who didn't need an appointment and had her fiery
hair washed and dried and pinned up by an expert hand and, much cheered
by her appearance, she spent time and money choosing lipstick and
powder before having coffee and the richest cream cake she could find.
Thus fortified she spent a blissful hour or so peering at the shop
windows; she would have liked to have bought o obscure she didn't
dare.  Perhaps before this job came to an end she would get a skirt and
a blouse or two and perhaps a sweater.  She had a meagre lunch
presently and then walked along by the estuary before buying dull
things like toothpaste and shampoo in Woolworths and then have inga
splendid tea. There was still the evening of course, but she had
nowhere to go; she bought a packet of biscuits, the local paper and any
magazine which might advertise jobs, and went back to her room.  Maisie
wouldn't be there; she would be going home after her day's work so
Deborah had the bath room to herself, lying far too long in a hot bath
and then, in a dressing-gown and nightie, settling down to read and eat
the biscuits.

But she didn't read for a long time; she thought about Sir James.  Of
course she thought of him all day and every day but only in snatches;

for most of the time she had so many other things to think of, but now
she allowed herself the luxury of remembering everything that she had
heard him say, his image vivid in her head.  She supposed that in time
she would forget him, but at present that, was impossible.  She thought
wistfully that he, of course, would have forgotten her long ago.  She
was wrong; he hadn't forgotten her.  He sup posed it was the carroty
head of hair and the bright blue of her eyes which came between him and
the e was penning It was a pity, he thought rather testily, that he
couldn't spare the time to drive down to South Pool and see how Mrs.
Vernon was getting on.  He had had a couple of reports from Dr.
Wright--very satisfactory ones too but she was not, after all, his
patient, and Dr.  Benson had said that he would let him know of any
drastic change.  Presumably sooner or later Deborah and the old lady
would return to the niece's house and the dreary room on the top floor.
Most unsuitable, he thought frowningly--he could perhaps jog Dr.
Benson's memory and get a report-His receptionist interrupted his train
of thought then and for the moment he put the idea aside.

Deborah had been at the hotel for almost three weeks when he had a
letter from Dr.  Wright.  He had gone early to his consulting-rooms
intent on finishing an article he was writing for the Lancet, when Mrs.
Fogg, his receptionist, came in with the post.

"Not much," she' said cheerfully.

"I've taken out the cheques and bills and Mrs.  Stone phoned to say
could she possibly come this morning instead of tomorrow?"  Mrs.  F6gg,
who had worked for him for years, added severely, "You're due at the
hospital at noon and you're going to be busy until then."

Sir James laid down his pen.

"Alice, I don't know what I would do without you.  Use your charm to
alter Mrs.  Stone's mind, will you?  There is really no need for her to
see me again anyway."

Mrs.  Fogg didn't say anything.  Mrs.  Stone fancied Sir James, the
silly woman.  A pity he couldn't find himself a wife--all members of
the medical profession needed wives and preferably a brood of
children;

it put them out of range of tiresome people like Mrs.  Stone.

"I'll do my best," she said as she went back to her office.  Left with
his letters.  Sir James leafed through them idly.  The last one was
from Kingsbridge.

He opened it and looked at the signature and also saw that it was from
Dr.  Wright before turning to the beginning of it.  He read it quickly
and then read it again.  Dr.  Wright thought he might like to hear from
him, "Although," he had written, 'you will already know from Dr. 
Benson that Mrs.  Vernon is back at her niece's home.  " He did add
details which he thought might interest Sir James and commented upon
the patient's good recovery.  He didn't mention Deborah.

Sir James picked up the phone.

"Alice?  Get me Dr.  Benson, will you?

You've got his number?  "

Mrs.  Fogg gave a dignified snort.

"Of course, Sir James."  A minute or so later she rang him back.  Dr.
Benson had been ill, a strange voice told him, identifying itself as a
Dr.  Jenkins who had taken over until he was fit again, and how, he
enquired, could he help Sir James?

"Yes, indeed," went on the voice in answer to Sir James's enquiry, he
visited a Mrs.  Vernon, living with'd recovery and seems both happy
and comfortable.  She has a splendid attendant who seems quite
tireless.  Her niece tells me that she doesn't know what they would do
without the girl.  "

"Ah, yes--a small young woman with red hair."

"No, no--Maggie is a strongly built young woman, dark-haired if I
remember rightly.  Are you interested in the case?  Would you like a
full report?  Dr.  Benson will be away for another week or so."  Sir
James said, no, there was no need, he had merely wished to enquire out
of personal interest; he added his thanks and hung up.  He glanced at
his watch--he had five minutes before his first patient.

"Alice?

Get me Dr.  Wright, will you?  South Pool-- I've no idea of the number
or the address.  "

Dr.  Wright sounded cheerful.

"You had my letter, sir?  I thought you might be interested to hear the
details of the case.  Mrs.  Vernon is a marvelous old lady."

Sir James agreed gravely, exchanged a few technical details with his
colleague and then asked casually, The girl looking after her--she
returned to her home with Mrs.  Vernon, I presume?  She appeared fond
of her.  "

"Deborah?  No--she had a message from Mrs.  Vernon's niece to say that
they had engaged another attendant who would fetch Mrs.  Vernon.
Deborah stayed behind to close up the cottage.  She intended a job.
Sensible young woman."  Sir James frowned.  He made some non-committal
remark, expressed the hope that they would meet at some future date,
and hung up again.  It was nothing to do with him, of course, but he
felt uneasy at the idea of Deborah without friends and no particular
skills, desperate to find work.

"Probably some ill-paid job with no future to it," he uttered
impatiently, pressing the bell by his desk to warn Mrs.  Fogg that he
was ready for his first patient.

He was far too well disciplined to allow his thoughts to wander until
the end of the day, when, his last patient seen, out-patients at the
hospital dealt with and a teaching round conducted with his usual calm
patience, he got into his car and drove the short distance to his home,
a Georgian house in a quiet street conveniently near to Harley Street.
Its door was opened as he got out of the car and he was wished good
evening by a dour-faced middle-aged man who added gloomily that rain
was forecast.

Sir James clapped him on the shoulders as he went past him into the
house.

"The farmers will be de lighted.  Dobbs, I may be going away for a
couple of days at the end of the week... I'll let you know."  He broke
off to repel the advances of a dog who had come bouncing to meet him.

"All right, Bellum, give me five minutes."  He cuffed the dog gently
and the beast rolled over, its tongue hanging out.  It had a n silky
curls and a long plumed tail.  As Sir James told his friends who
expressed surprise at the sight of the animal, "His parentage was lost
in history."  The beast led the way now across the hall and into Sir
James's study, a comfortable room with a vast partners' desk under its
one window, a couple of leather armchairs by the fireplace and a table
against one wall housinga word processor and a small filing cabinet.
Sir James sat himself down in the chair behind the desk; he had had a
full day and he was tired but he had to decide just what he was going
to do.

"The tiresome girl," he told Bellum, and, "I dare say she is quite
capable of looking after herself."

Presently he went upstairs with Bellum trotting up the elegant little
staircase at his heels, to sit in his bedroom while his master showered
and changed.  Together they went downstairs again presently into the
dining-room where Dobbs served dinner with an air of disapproval and
great dignity.  Sir James polished off his cheese and got up from the
table.

"Please tell Mrs.  Dobbs that 'the beef was delicious.  What a splendid
cook she is."

Dobbs allowed himself the faintest flicker of a smile.

"That she is, sir.  I'll let her know."

Sir James went to his drawing-room and sat down by the open french
window leading to the small walled garden behind the house.  It was a
pleasant e flowerbeds be fore coming to sit at his feet.  Presently
Sir James got up and went to his study again and picked up the phone.

"Pat?  How are you and Roger and the children?  Do you know of anyone
who needs help with children or old people or something similar?"  The
young woman at the other end of the phone chuckled.

"James, you don't waste a moment in small talk, do you?  You won't tell
me anything even if I ask but there are one or two things I must know.
How old is she, is she trustworthy, does she speak decent
English...?"

"Early twenties, I should think, educated, sensible, patient and
hardworking."

"Would you give her a reference?"

"Yes."

"Then I may be able to help her.  Lottie Soames has been landed with a
bad-tempered old uncle while the daughter he lived with goes on
holiday.  You know Lottie, she's almost witless trying to keep him
amused and fed.  Shall I find out and let you know?"

"Please--as soon as possible."

"I am a good sister," said the voice, and then before saying goodbye,
"Is she pretty, James?"

"Carroty hair and no looks worth mentioning."  He put down the phone.

"However, she has the most beautiful eyes," he told Bellum, and got out
his appointments book.

He left his house very early on Saturday morning with Bellum sitting
beside him and Dobbs' gloomy forebodings about bad weather ringing in
his ears.  Once clear of the city, he drove steadily, stopping for
coffee and then for a late lunch, unhampered by much traffic for most
of it was going away from the holiday area now that summer was coming
to a close.  He reached South Pool in the early afternoon and turned
the car into the cul-de-sac, to stop before the cottage door.  The
jolly woman who lived next door was on the doorstep before he could get
out.

"They've gone--you've been here before, haven't you?  Been gone more
than three weeks.  A crying shame if you ask me, leaving that nice
little thing on her own like that--the old lady was that upset."  Sir
James opened the door to let Bellum out.

"Did Deborah say where she was going?"

"No, only packed the place up like she was told to do and went to
Kingsbridge on the bus, said some thing about 'starting work in the
afternoon."  She paused.

"Wait a minute, though, Mrs.  Croft on the other side said she thought
she saw her polishing the brass on the door of one of the hotels."  She
gave Sir James a thoughtful look.

"Want to see her, do you?"  When he nodded in his calm way she added,
"Come over and see if she's in."

Mrs.  Croft was quite sure that it had been Deborah.

"The hair, you know," she observed.

"Last week it was; I'd gone in on the early bus and there she was.

It's a small hotel facing the water--you can't miss it.  "

"You have been most helpful and I am grateful," said Sir James at his
most urbane.

"Well, she surely could do with a few friends, I reckon," said the
jolly woman.

"Like a cup of tea?"

"I should like to see Deborah as soon as possible, but perhaps another
time?"

He got into the car and Bellum arranged himself beside him.

"There's a gent for you" said Mrs.  Croft as he drove away.

CHAPTER FIVE

sir james stood in the doorway of the hotel's bar and watched Deborah
polishing glasses.  She was standing on a chair, since the heavy shelf
was too high for her to reach, and show inga great deal of leg.  He
admired her for a few moments before he spoke, his voice carefully
casual.

"What a tiresome girl you are, disappearing without trace, not telling
a soul where you were going."

Deborah, taken by surprise, teetered on the chair and he strode forward
and lifted her down, took the glass from her hand and put it on the
bar.

"I might have smashed that glass," she said crossly.

"They take breakages out of our wages."  She wasn't going to allow the
pure joy at seeing him again to show.

"Why should I tell anyone where I was going?"

She backed away a little, for standing close to him was doing things to
her breath, and, since he had remained silent, she added, "Did you want
to stay here?  The receptionist has gone to tea.  I'll fetch her."

"I haven't come to stay."  He smiled at her, a warm friendly smile
which did her heart good.

"I have been asked to find you and offer you a job--a friend of my
sister's.  I must say," he went on testily, 'that I have spent the
better part of two days looking for you.  "

"I am working here," said Deborah with dignity.

"Scullerymaid?  Daily help?"  He was mocking her and that hurt.

"I'm a chambermaid and I--I help out when anyone's off duty..."  He
eyed her silently for a moment.  She looked rather bedraggled in a
serviceable apron, much too large for her, with a face devoid of
make-up and a hairdo like a crow's nest.  He thought with impatience
that he had no reason to bother with her, she had found work; she
looked forlorn but that would be remedied if she combed her hair and
did something to her face.  No doubt she would work her way up to
whatever job was top of the pile in hotels.  He had been concerned for
her unnecessarily.

She put up a hand and pushed a carroty curl behind one ear and he
realised that he was still concerned.

"This job--if you can spare a minute?  A friend of my sister's--she has
a great-uncle living with her-in his eighties and a little eccentric.
She has two small children and a large house and needs help badly.  I
might add that she is not in the least like Mrs.  Vernon.  Her name is
Lottie Soames, in her early thirties, these small children and a
good-natured husband.  There's plenty of help in the house, you
wouldn't be expected toer--polish glasses."

To Deborah, already tired and with the rather daunting prospect of a
long evening's work ahead of her, it sounded like heaven.

"But I can't just leave..."

"Temporary, are you?"  And when she nodded, he said, "Will you leave
that to me and go to Lottie?  She really is beside herself, she's a
darling but not very well organised."

"He'll never let me go..."

Sir James smiled.

"Where is this man?  The man ager, is he?"

"He'll be in his office.  It's down that passage by the reception
desk."

Deborah had finished the glasses and was polishing the bar counter when
Sir James returned.

"That's settled," he said blandly.

"How long will it take you to pack your things?"

"Pack my things?"  She stared at him, her mouth half open.  He looked
at his watch.

"Half an hour?  I'll wait here."

"Yes, but I'm only halfway through the week--I'm supposed to give a
week's notice, I can't just go..."

"Indeed you can; the manager was most under standing."

"What did you say to him?"

He gave a "small smile.

"Run along and pack and do take off that terrible pinny."

She went, for there seemed that there was nothing else that she could
do, and half an hour later, neat and tidy once more in the denim skirt
and the jacket, she went back to the bar.  Sir James and the manager
were sitting together on the best of terms.  They both r and Sir James
got up.

"I am most grateful for your understanding," he told the manager.

"You have been most kind."

The men shook hands and the manager bade Deborah goodbye in quite a
different kind of voice from the one he usually used.  He sounded
sympathetic and slightly deferential too, which puzzled her, but Sir
James whisked her out of the hotel so fast that she had no time to
ponder upon that.

He opened the door of the car and told her briskly to get in while he
saw to her cases, and Bellum, de lighted to have company again, stood
up on his hind legs and breathed all over her before Sir James got him
out of the car and walked him briskly up and down for a few minutes.

It gave her a moment in which to think and she was ready with her
questions as he got back into the car.

"Where are we going and where does this Mrs.  Soames live and how do
you know I'll suit?"

He started the car before he replied.

"We are going to my sister's home, that is near BradfordonAvon; you
will spend the night there and in the morning she will drive you over
to Lottie-who lives just outside Chippenham."

"Supposing I decide not to go?  I've been hustled and bustled."  She
drew an exasperated breath.

He had driven out of the town and was already on the road to Totnes.

"Is it not a little late to change your mind?"  he asked mildly.

"Change my mind?  I wasn't given a chance to-to..."

"Now, now."  His voice was very soothing.

"What would you have done in a few weeks' time when the job at the
hotel was finished?  Found more temporary work?  Answered endless
advertisements, gone on the dole?  You must admit that it was
providential that my sister should ask me if I knew of anyone who might
go to Lottie and that reminded me of old Mrs.  Vernon and you.  I dare
say Lottie's uncle is rather more difficult to handle."

She reflected with a touch of melancholy that she seemed fated to look
after old people in their beds.  But at least she would have a roof
over her head and she had been secretly worrying about what she should
do when the hotel no longer needed her services; it.  " was indeed,
providential that Sir James's sister should have mentioned this old
uncle... Sir James, watching her out of the corner of his eye, was
satisfied that his slight deviation from the truth had settled the
matter.  He began to tell her the latest news of old Mrs. Vernon--doing
very nicely and when he had seen her recently she had asked after
Deborah.

"She is apparently quite fond of the girl who is with her now, but she
remembers you with real affection."

"I'm glad she's better--they're kind to her?"  She sounded anxious.

"Oh, yes."  His voice was dry.

"When she dies her nephew and niece will inherit the house and the
estate.  I hear that when she returned to them she indicated that
unless she was allowed to deal with her own affairs she might consider
leaving everything to some charity or other."

"Oh, good.  They were unkind to her, but you see they didn't expect her
to recover."

"Common error, that.  It is largely due to you that she made a good
recovery.  Let us hope that you will work wonders with this great-uncle
of Lottie's."

They were racing towards Exeter and Deborah longed for her tea.  The
staff lunch, although adequate, had to be eaten quickly and if one were
interrupted for any reason there was no chance of finishing the meal.
She had been interrupted at lunch--twice.

She saw a Happy Eater as they approached the city but Sir James didn't
stop; they were on the other side of Exeter, halfway to Honiton when he
stopped out side a hotel by the side of the road.

"Tea?"  He sounded friendly.

"Go on in while 1 see to Bellum."  He opened the door for her and then
bent to put a lead on Bellum and she went inside.  It was pleasantly
warm with a bright fire and comfortable chairs round small tables.
First, though, the Ladies'--plenty of hot water and large mirrors and
time to see her face.  Her e could and went back to find him already
at a table with Bellum sitting on his feet.  He got up and pulled out a
chair, offering it to her, and Bellum arranged himself between them.

"Oh, I ordered--you don't mind?  Tea, toasted tea- cakes and a dish of
pastries."

They didn't linger over the meal and Deborah, her head full of
questions, forbore from asking them be cause she sensed that he had no
time to waste.  He drove on, keeping to the A303 until he came to the
fork, when he turned on to the A37, going north now to Midsomer Norton
and then, by a series of country roads, to Bradford-on-Avon.  Just
short of the town he turned into a lane leading into a wooded valley
and a half-hidden village.  It had one street, a large church and at
its end a rambling old house set in a splendid garden.

Sir James drove through the open gateway.

"Well, here we are."  And as he spoke the door was flung wide and a
young woman came running out.

She stuck her head through the window and kissed his cfaeek.

"James--come inside..."  She leaned across him and offered a hand.

"Hello, Miss Everett--you've no idea what an angel you're being.  You
don't mind spending the night here?  It's a bit too late to take you
over to Lottie's.  We can go after breakfast."

She was very like her brother, thought Deborah; the same fair hair and
blue eyes and same command e took the hand and murmured and Sir James
got out of the car and came round to her door and opened it for her.

"You'll stay for dinner?"  asked his sister as she ushered them into
the house.

"The children are in bed but they've vowed they'd stay awake until you
came."

"I can't stay, my dear, I've a date.  But I'll go and see the
children--will IP--while you take Deborah to her room.  Is Roger
home?"

"He went down to the paddock to see Queenie; he'll be back."  She
paused to look at him.

"Your date's a bit late in the evening isn't it?  It'll take you two
hours and you'll have to change, I suppose."

"Supper--I should also have gone to the opera too but I cried off."

"Is she beautiful and charming?"  Pat laughed up at him.  All he said
was, "Don't fish, my dear."

Deborah, who had been feeling pleased with herself for ignoring her
feelings and pretending that she didn't love him--it had been a flash
in the pan, she had repeated over and over to herself--knew that it was
no such thing; she felt quite sick at the idea of him sharing his
evening with some lovely, elegant creature.  A kind of cold despair
filled her chest and just for a moment life just wasn't worth living.

It only lasted for a moment; Sir James whistled to Bellum and took the
stairs two at a time and his sister took Deborah's arm.

"I don't know your name," said Deborah.

"Pat--and my husband is Roger--Cresswell.  Come on upstairs and see
your room.  You must be tired.  James said there would be no trouble
arranging for you to leave your job..."

Deborah let that pass.  He hadn't known where she was in the first
place and, now she came to think of it, what had he said to the hotel
manager?  She would have to ask him.  but she wouldn't be seeing him
again.

Her room was at the end of a passage leading from the gallery which
circled the staircase.  It was charming and she heaved a sigh of pure
content at the sight of its pretty furnishings and the small bathroom
leading from it.

"Don't bother to change," said Mrs.  Cresswell.

"We aren't going to--come down as soon as you're ready.  Dinner will be
in about fifteen minutes."

When she got downstairs Sir James, his sister and another man were
standing in the, hall with Bellum pressed close to his master's trouser
leg.  As Deborah reached them Sir James said, "I'm sorry I have to go
again but I know you will be happy with Lottie, despite her
great-uncle.  I have rushed you around rather, haven't I?"  He smiled
down at her as he offered her a hand.

"A bit," she said composedly, 'but I'm most grateful to you and I'll do
my best.  " She met his searching t here; I enjoyed it."  Drivingaway
presently.  Sir James was rather surprised to find that he had enjoyed
it too.

"That should see her settled," he observed to Bellum, sitting beside
him.

"Probably she will meet some young man and marry."

The thought of a secure future for the tiresome girl should have left
him satisfied but it didn't.

The Cresswells were kindness itself to Deborah, taking care not to ask
questions, discussing the de lights of Devonshire and their horror of
living in a city, the naughtiness of their two children, their gar den.
and sitting her down to a meal the like of which she hadn't enjoyed for
a long time.

"And since we are celebrating Lottie's relief at getting you--rather
like manna from heaven, you know--we'll have a bottle of champagne."

Deborah went to bed in a state of slightly muzzy contentment.  All the
same she wasn't so muzzy that she was unable to go over the hours she
had spent with Sir James.  It really was the last time, she decided

She wasn't sure why he had bothered to go to so much trouble to find
her and get her another job but she suspected that she had nagged at
him like a sore tooth.  He wasn't a man to leave a stray animal out in
the rain and probably that was what he thought of her.  It did nothing
for her ego--if she thought g in self- pity.  She sensibly went to
sleep.

Breakfast was a cheerful meal with the children, a boy and a girl, full
of curiosity and questions while being urged to eat their breakfast.

"Roger drops them off on his way to the office," explained Pat.

"They both go to the same little prep school at present.  Paul is down
for Winchester of course because Roger went there but Molly will be a
day pupil--there's a good school in Bath."

After the children and their father had gone they sat over their coffee
until Pat said, "Well, if you're ready, Deborah, we'll go over to
Lottie's."

Half an hour took them to Chippenham.  Pat drove through the town and
took a small side-road.

"Lottie lives right in the country but it's not as bad as it
sounds--it's easy to get on to the Marlborough road or go north and
pick up the M4.  James shoots up to town from us in.no time at all."

She took an even narrower road at the crossroads and drove between high
hedges until there was a sharp curve reveal inga--village ahead of
them.  There was one very small shop and a cluster of cottages and then
they were between hedges again, but not for long.  Pat turned into an
open driveway leading to a solid house with an elaborate porch and rows
of windows set in its plain face.  The grounds around it were beautiful
and well kept.

"Come along," said Pat and slipped an arm through Deborah's.

"Don't be nervous; everyone loves Lottie."

Deborah wasn't surprised about that as she was introduced to that lady
who had come tearing out of the door, talking as she came.

"Pat, darling--you angel--and dear James takin gall this trouble--' She
turned to Deborah and held out a hand.

"You have no idea just how thankful I am to see you Miss... no, may I
call you Deborah?  Probably you'll not want to stay once you've met
Uncle Oscar, but do please give us a try.  I hope I've done the right
thing--I thought we'd surprise him with you..."  She urged them both
into the house.

"There's coffee in the sitting-room.  I'll tell you all about it,
Deborah, before you meet him."

"He sounds like an ogre."

"He's an old tyrant.  It's his best hobby to find fault with everything
and everyone but actually I suspect that he's rather a nice old thing
underneath.  I'd not seen him for years, you know, but my cousin simply
had to have a holiday and now the doctor says she must have three
months or so doing nothing and he's been here less than three weeks and
I'm half dead..."

She smiled brilliantly at Deborah.  She was a pretty young woman and
obviously, despite her awkward relative, a happy one.  She was dressed
carelessly but her clothes were expensive and she wore them with e
would like her.

"Have another cup of coffee while I tell you your duties--you'll have a
day off each week, of course, and you can, if you prevail on Uncle
Oscar, have several hours off each day.  There's no nursing--he's as
fit as a fiddle--but he likes to play two-handed patience and bezique
and talk--he reminisces by the hour.  You'll need an awful lot of
patience..."

She eyed Deborah doubtfully.

"It sounds awful, doesn't it?  But we'll do all we can to keep you
happy.  I almost forgot," she added, 'we thought about your salary.  "
She named a sum which made Deborah blink.

"That's far too much, Mrs.  Soames..."

"Well, you'll have to argue with Peter about that but I assure you that
he won't listen and you'll earn every penny of it.  If you hadn't come
he'd have had to pay hundreds of pounds to some discreet home where I
could go mad in comfort."

They aH laughed then and Pat got up to go.  Mrs.  Soames went out to
the door with her and when she was in the car poked her head through
the window.

"She's sweet---'no looks but lovely eyes.  She looks sad... where did
James find her?"

Pat told her.

"I rather gather that he felt responsible for her..."

They exchanged a look.

"I'll have him over to dinner one evening" said Lottie.

"I'll give you a ring in the morning."

"You shall see your room now," she told Deborah when she went back into
the large, comfortable and untidy sitting-room, 'then you can unpack
and come back here and we'll go and surprise Uncle Oscar.  " The
staircase was oak and uncarpeted and beautifully polished and upstairs
there were passages in all directions.  Deborah's room was at the side
of the house with a glorious view of the countryside.  It was well
furnished and there was an easy-chair by the lit the table under the
window.  There were books too and a bowl of flowers.  Deborah felt
tears in her eyes at so much kindness.

"It's beautiful," she told Mrs.  Soames.

"I'm sure I shall be happy here and I'll do my best to keep your uncle
happy."

"I'm sure you will.  Here's the bathroom and if you need anything do
ask.  We've a housekeeper and a splendid housemaid and daily help and
they'll do all they can to make you comfortable.  I'll leave you while
you unpack, shall I?"

She went away and Deborah sat down for a moment in the easy-chair.

Even if Great-Uncle Oscar was a troublesome tyrant, she would still
have time to herself before she went to bed, to sit here and browse
through some of the books.  She allowed her self to think of the money
she would earn too--about three months, Mrs.  Soames had said.  She
would save at least half of it so that if she had difficulty in finding
work she could rent a room somewhere.

She got up and unpacked, laying undies in the big g her few clothes in
the wall cupboard.  She would have to get another dress.  Hair brushed,
and nicely made-up, she went down stairs and found Mrs.  Soames waiting
for her.

"He's along here."  She led the way along a wide corridor.

"A bedroom and sitting-room--there's a door into the garden; he likes
gardens--my mother lived with us until she died and we furnished the
rooms for her.  Of course he uses the other rooms; has his meals with
us unless he decides he doesn't want to, often spends the evening
watching television and talking loudly all the time.  He won't have it
in his room but he has got the radio.  He comes with us to church but
he doesn't like the children much and he loves his solitude."  Mrs.
Soames paused with her hand on a door-handle and knocked.

A voice thundered, "Come in," and she opened the door and encouraged
Deborah with a hand on the small of her back.

"Morning, Uncle," she said cheerfully, and started to cross the floor
of the room.  It was a large apartment very well furnished, its windows
overlook inga rose garden, its doors open on to a patio.  The old
gentleman was sitting by the door, and facing away from them--all
Deborah could see was a shock of white hair and an upraised
newspaper.

He spoke testily without looking round.

"Can I not t a time?  Now what is it?"  His niece went to stand in
front of him, taking Deborah with her.

"This is Deborah; she's going to stay with us and be your companion." 
A cross old face emerged from behind the newspaper.

"Companion?  Did I ever say I wanted one?  Send her away--you're here
to give me a game of cards when I want a change."

"Well, I'm not--not any more," said Lottie with spirit.

"I've the house to run and the children and Roger to look after.  Now
you'll have Deborah to help you with the crossword puzzles and play
cards with you."

He put down the paper slowly and took a good look.

"Good lord, she's a child--no use to me at all."

"Well, supposing you give me a try for a while before you decide," said
Deborah quite unimpressed by this show of rudeness.  She had after all,
had a good deal of experience of that.

"How do you do, Mr...?  I'm afraid I don't know your name."  She held
out a hand and he took it reluctantly.

"God bless my soul," he observed) you a tongue in your head.  My name
is Trent.  "

"Appearances are deceptive," said Deborah matter- of-factly.

"Never mind what I look like, I'm good at crossword puzzles and I can
play most card games.  I can play chess, too, Mr.  Trent."

"I don't believe it."

She gave him a smiling look.

"Try me.  This afternoon, perhaps?"

"You're a plain girl but you seem to have your wits about you.  We'll
start a game after lunch.  You'll be at lunch?"

"Of course she will," said Mrs.  Soames.

"One o'clock, sharp.  Come along, Deborah, you'd better see the house
and meet the staff."  It was a delightful house and the housekeeper and
Edith the housemaid were softly spoken countrywomen who smiled at her
kindly.  There was an elderly woman washing up at the sink too, wearing
an old and rather grand hat and a floral pinny, Mrs.  Hewish by name,
who peered at Deborah and said, "Ullo, love," in a gruff friendly
voice.  As they went back to the sitting-room the phone rang and Mrs.
Soames went to answer it.

"Take a quick look round the garden," she told Deborah and, when she
had gone, lifted the receiver.

"I knew it was you James: You don't have to worry about your lame
dog--not that that's right but you know what.  I mean.  You should have
seen her with Uncle Oscar--challenged him to a game of chess after
lunch and when he was rude to her merely said that appearances were
deceptive and told him not to mind what she looked like.  She's a
treasure.  You won't need to bother about her any more, I'll see that
she gets a good job when she goes from here; better g men as I can lay
hands on..."

A light-hearted remark which made Sir James frown thoughtfully.  All he
said was, "I'm glad that she's settling in; she hasn't had much fun for
the last few years."

"Well, we'll try and alter that; Uncle Oscar's going to take up a good
deal of her day but there'll be time over for some fun."  Sir James
frowned again and then reminded him self that he had no reason to feel
annoyance at Lottie's remarks.  Deborah had as much right to fun,
whatever that was, as any other girl who had to work for her living.

Sittingat his desk presently, he decided that he might take a weekend
off and go down and see Pat and call on Lottie at the same time.  His
nurse came in to say that his first patient was there and he dismissed
Deborah from his mind.  On-his way to the hospital later that morning
he paused by Mrs.  Fogg's desk.

"Alice, I'm going to take a weekend off within the next week or so.

How am I fixed?  " 's She had the appointments book.  open.

"Let's see, It's Thursday today.

This weekend's no good--the conference--you're speaking too.  The
weekend after that--let me see--you've accepted an invitation to spend
Sunday with Dr.  Frobisher and his wife.  The following weekend is
free. "

"Good.  Remind me, Alice; I'll go to the cottage first so try and keep
Friday late afternoon free and first thing Monday morning if you can.

I'll be at the hospital if you want me.  I'll be back for the afternoon
patients.  "

"Please don't forget your evening clinic, Sir James."

She watched him go through the door.  It was high time he had a wife to
look after him; Dobbs and Mrs.  Dobbs were splendid servants but what
he needed was a loving woman to nag him into a less busy life.  Deborah
was very much on her mettle.  She got out the chessboard and set it on
the table by the window, convenient to Uncle Oscar's chair.  Lunch had
been a delicious meal, spoilt by his grumblings and criticism of the
food put before him.  No wonder Mrs.  Soames had threatened to go into
a quiet home and go mad, but, as Deborah told herself, she was made of
sterner stuff; moreover she had no other responsibilities and she, was
being paid handsomely.  She set out the pieces and sat down opposite
the old gentleman.

He might be crotchety and rude but he certainly had retained his sharp
brain.  She wasn't bad herself; endless games with a fault-finding
stepfather had perfected her game and Uncle Oscar was good enough to
tell her that for a chit of a girl she seemed to have a modicum of
sense.

"More than Lottie has," he declared

"More hair than wit is my opinion of her."

"Mr.  Trent, I won't sit here and listen to you saying'd sweet to you
and you know you don't mean a word of it."

"Hoity-toity, miss, that's no way to talk to your betters.  I am ready
for tea."

"So am I," said Deborah equably.

"Shall I go and look for it or do you have it with Mrs.  Soames?"

Uncle Oscar blew his nose furiously with a very large handkerchief.

"If we're speaking we have it together but go and tell her I want my
tea here; we'll have another game before dinner."

Deborah found Mrs.  Soames lolling on a sofa, read inga book.  The room
was pleasantly untidy and a small dog shared the sofa with her.  She
looked up guiltily as Deborah knocked and went in.

"Oh, dear-- I feel guilty sitting here and doing nothing.  Can't you
bear him any longer?"

Deborah chuckled.

"We've had a very pleasant afternoon and I'm sure you deserve every
minute of peace, Mrs.  Soames.  Mr.  Trent wants his tea and I wondered
if I could get it?  He'd like another game of chess afterwards so he'd
like it in his room."

Mrs.  Soames let out a sigh of relief, "You have no idea--well, you
must have by now--but if he has tea in his room it means the children
can rush about and shout and let off steam; I'm going to fetch them in
ten minutes or so.  I'm sure he's fond of them but they are tiring...
Would you go to the kitchen and ask for tea to be taken to Uncle's
room?  You don't mind having it with him?  He goes to bed quite
early..."

Mrs.  Soames looked so anxious that Deborah hastened to assure her that
she would like to have tea with the old gentleman and went off to the
kitchen where Faith offered to bring the tray in five minutes.  Uncle
Oscar beat Deborah soundly in the second game and then stumped away to
his bedroom to get ready for dinner.

"And you come back here in half an hour," he told her.

She supposed that she had better wear the new dress.  She showered and
got into the dress and sandals and brushed her hair into a glossy knot
pinned high on her neck and then went back to his room.  He was there
in his shirt-sleeves, a velvet jacket over his arm.

"Why is there never anyone to help me when I need to be helped?"  he
greeted her.  She saw that it was a routine grumble and meant nothing
much.

She eased him into the plum-coloured velvet, told him he looked very
hapdsome, and as the gong sounded just then, went with him through the
house to the dining-room, a magnificent opulent room with a long table
capable of seating twenty persons, ringed-by Georgian chairs and set
with lace-edged mats and a great deal of glass and silver.

She was glad she was wearing the new dress, for Mrs.  Soames was in a
white chiffon blouse and a black taffeta skirt.  The meal went off very
well.  Uncle Oscar objected to almost everything, the food was badly
cooked, the n making a lot of noise.

"They're children, Uncle," his nephew pointed out mildly, 'and anyway,
there is no need to upset your self, they are in bed now.  I've just
been up to say goodnight.  "

"Bah," said Uncle Oscar.

"I was brought up to be seen and not heard."

A remark which was received in silence, the oh vious unspoken answer
hanging heavy in the air above them.

Over dessert he said suddenly.

"Can you play the piano, miss?"

"Yes," said Deborah, 'but not very well.  "

"There is a piano in my room, you can play for me for half an hour."

Deborah took a mouthful of peach melba; she said serenely, "Very well,
Mr.  Trent."

"Deborah has had a long day," Mrs.  Soames pointed out.

"Perhaps she would like to go to bed early."

"Go to bed?"  rumbled her uncle.

"At her age?  Good lord, when I was young I was never in bed before two
o'clock."

To her surprise he turned to Deborah.

"Tired, are you?"

"A little, but I shall enjoy playing for a while, Mr.  Trent."  They
went back to his sitting-room presently and e room and asked him what
he would like.

"Anything, anything," he told her testily, so she rambled from Schubert
to Chopin and Elgar and Grieg and then, since he hadn't complained so
far, started on some of the old ballads, ending with "Come into the
garden, Maud'.

"Upon my soul," said Uncle Oscar, 'that was the best half-hour of the
day.  " He sounded quite mild.

"Go to bed, girl, and send that woman--what's her name?  Edith--to run
my bath.  I'm going to bed too."

She bade him goodnight and went in search of the housemaid to give her
the message and then went to her room.  She didn't suppose that the
Soameses would expect her to say goodnight.

She was tired but the warm room was wonderfully welcoming with the
curtains drawn and the bed turned tidily down.  There was a bowl of
fruit on the table too.  Sh& lay a long time in the bath, eating an
apple, recalling the day.  It had been a busy one but she liked Uncle
Oscar; his bark, she decided, was worse than his bite.  In bed,-,
however, the last person she thought of was Sir James.  Strangely
enough, he was thinking of her too, but whereas she was thinking of him
with love and longing his thoughts were impatient of his inability to
forget her.  It was the hair, he supposed irritably; it had been the
first thing he had seen when he had been called to see old Mrs.
Vernon.

It had r from the daffodils there.

"Tiresome girl," observed Sir James to the faithful Bellum.

"Let us forget her and concentrate on the dinner party tomorrow
evening."

CHAPTER SIX

unlike old Mrs.  Vernon, Uncle Oscar was neither supine nor patient.

Despite his age he was constantly seeking diversions of one sort or
another.  Since he was also forgetful and might take a fit into his
head to walk to the village and get on a bus for no reason at all, or
spend a morning in the garden wreaking havoc among the flower beds,
cutting bunches of roses and eating the raspberries, Deborah soon
understood why his niece had been so anxious to get help.  All the
same, she was happy; no two days were alike, for she never knew what
Uncle Oscar would do next, so that she might spend almost all of one
day playing racing demon-with him and the next strolling down to the
village shop with him because he fancied a bag of humbugs.  They would
walk back to the house, their cheeks bulging, and she would stop
deliberately from time to time because "" he was puffing and getting
tired, and ask him to tell her about some flower or other.

She had almost no time to herself but she didn't mind that--the
Soameses were kind and friendly and the two children were delightful;

naughty and noisy and wilful but never disagreeable.  She thought how
e Lottie, to a man who obviously loved her dearly, and to have two
healthy and lively children and to live in a lovely house with enough
money.  Uncle Oscar liked her; he was rude, of course, but she knew
that he didn't mean it.  He would bellow and rage at her because she
refused even to let him climb up the church tower or ride the postman's
bicycle, call her names and then roar with laughter.  She found him
delightful even if rather a responsibility.

On her first day off Mr.  Soames drove her into Chippenham in the
morning and she spent a most satisfactory day going round the shops
and, since she had money to spend, buying another dress to wear in the
evenings: a rather sober dress, pale grey with a white ruffled collar
and white cuffs to its long sleeves.  Suitable, she considered, for any
future job she might find, its style vague enough to last through
several summers if necessary.

She had lunch in a small restaurant in a side street and, obedient to
Mr.  Soames's request, was waiting for him when he picked her up just
before six o'clock.

She found Uncle Oscar in a rage.

"Where have you been?"  he bawled as she went into the sitting-room.

"The fools have lost my reading spectacles and Lottie doesn't know a
pawn from a knight.  I'm upset and I need a drink."

"You know quite well that it's my day off," said Deborah soothingly,
'and I can see your glasses from t pocket.  We'll have a game of chess
before I go to bed if you like and I'll fetch you a drink if you'll say
what you want.  "

She put the glasses on his nose, invited him to sit quietly and went
away to get him the glass of sherry he enjoyed before dinner.  That
done, she went to her room and changed into the green patterned dress
once more.  Tomorrow she would wear the new frock.

Another week went by; summer was ending and although there was not any
mention of her leaving she hoped that it wouldn't be for at least
another two months.  By then she would have enough money saved to keep
her while she found work; all the same she worried quietly to herself,
getting ready for bed in her pretty room.

On the Saturday morning, Uncle Oscar declared his intention of walking
to the village to buy sweets.  It was a grey cool morning and it was
already drizzling with a fine rain but since he, had made up his mind
the pair of them set out, Deborah holding aloft an enormous umbrella.

The village shop was crowded's and when their turn came the old
gentleman-took time deciding what he would have.  Presently, however,
his pockets bulging with toffees and striped humbugs, they set off for
the house once more.  Despite the rain, which was now quite hard, they
didn't hurry, for he was in a chatty mood and kept stopping to explain
some knotty point to Deborah.  They were halfway up e Bentley on the
sweep before the house.

"Oh, lord!"  said Deborah and stopped short.

Her companion squinted through the rain.

"That's James's car.  Why are you standing there like a thunderstruck
goose?  Seen him before, haven't you?  Nice chap, clever too."  He gave
her a sly look.

"Sweet on him, are you?  Shouldn't be surprised; he's a good catch, not
that he'd notice you with that hair.  Lottie said something about his
help in finding you--he's always been a one to find homes for stray
cats and dogs."

Deborah spoke coldly.

"Mr.  Trent, you are a vulgar and rude old man and I know you don't
mean half of it."

He took this in good part.

"I like a bit of temper in a woman," he told her and took her arm.

"Let us go and say good morning to James."

He started to walk towards the house and she per force went with him
because of the umbrella, but at the door she said quickly, "I must go
to the kitchen and see about your coffee.  Mind and change your shoes
and put on your slippers."

She skipped away and Sir James watched her go from the drawing-room
window.  She looked as plain as ever, he reflected, her hair wet and
curling fiercely around her face, and yet he felt distinct pleasure in
seeing her again.

He asked idly, "Deborah has settled down nicely, Lottie?"

"She's a gem, she takes the greatest care of Uncle Oscar, ignores his
bad temper and rudeness and spends hours playing chess with him.  We
are so grateful for her.  Madeleine won't recognise him when she gets
back."

"When is she returning?"

"I'm not sure, a while yet.  Deborah must be longing to get back to her
normal life again.  Her family must miss her."

"She has no family--stepbrother and sister..."

"Oh, I didn't know.  She doesn't talk about herself at all."  She
smiled at him.

"Come and sit down and tell me what you've been doing lately.  Pat says
you are far too busy."

"I intend to have a quiet weekend.  It seemed a good opportunity to
call and see if Deborah was fitting in..."

"^ " Indeed she is.  We feel a bit guilty, though, she doesn't get much
free time: a day--most of a day-once a week; she goes to Chippenham and
looks at the shops.  "

Sir James, very relaxed in his chair, crossed one long leg over the
other.

"I'll ask her out to dinner- tomorrow evening?"

"What a marvelous idea, I'm sure she'll love that.  Go and ask her
now.

She'll be giving Uncle Oscar g over for tea and bringing the
children--will you come too?  "

"I'd like to spend the rest of the day at the cottage, and tidy up the
garden a little."

"Of course.  Come when you like, though, James, you're always
welcome.

Do see Peter before you go--he'll be down in the paddock with the
children.  I suppose that's where Bellum went.  "

"I'll give him a whistle and see Uncle Oscar on the way."  Sir James
reached Uncle Oscar's door at the same time as Deborah, coming from the
kitchen with the coffee tray.  He took it from her, wished her 'good
morning' in a civil voice and followed her into the room.

"Thought you'd come," observed the old man.

"Where's that ridiculous dog of yours?  Come to talk to me, have you?
Deborah, pour the coffee and get another cup and saucer.  Want to see
how she's coping with me, do you?"

He turned his elderly gaze upon her and she took no notice, merely
poured the coffee with a steady hand, steeling herself for whatever he
would say next.  Which was a good thing, for the old man went on
loudly, "No glamour but as wholesome as a loaf of bread, and she plays
an excellent game of chess and you get used to the hair."  Sir James's
face was expressionless; he said pleasantly "You can hardly expect me
to agree with you's still here despite your--er--forthright
comments."

He reached for the coffee-cup she was holding out to him and saw that
her hand was trembling.  He took the cup and with his other hand held
hers for a moment, its grasp firm and warm.  He said with casual
friendliness, "I've given myself a weekend off.  I'd like to take you
out tomorrow evening--dinner, perhaps

She looked at him then.

"Oh--that would be nice, but I'm not sure--' Uncle Oscar, who only
feigned deafness when he didn't want to hear something, interrupted
testily.

"Don't dither, miss, it's not often you get the chance to go out with
someone like James.  A distinguished medical man and much sought-after
too.  You go and make all the pretty girls spit with rage."

Deborah said matter-of-factly, "There's not much fear of that, but I'll
let you know at breakfast on Monday morning."

"Ha--going to stay out half the night, are you?"  He looked crafty.

"Still holding hands, are you?"

She withdrew her hand from Sir James's clasp, who laughed easily and
observed that Uncle Oscar was the most entertaining person he had ever
had the good fortune to meet.  He looked down at Deborah as he spoke
and said with just the right amount of casual friendliness, "I'll call
for you about half-past six, if I n Benger; you can tell me all your
news over dinner."

"I must ask Mrs.  Soames..."

"Of course, but I'll see her presently."

She went back to the kitchen to get the cup and saucer and replenish
the cold coffee-pot and the two men sat talking for half an hour before
Sir James, saying that he still had to see Peter and get Bellum, got up
to go.  He shook the old man's hand and went to Deborah, sitting
composedly in a chair, her hands tidily in her lap.

"We'll meet again tomorrow," he said, and bent and kissed her cheek and
let himself out into the garden in search of Peter Soames and Bellum.

Deborah got up and busied herself collecting cups and loading the tray,
waiting for Uncle Oscar to bel low with laughter or bawl some jeering
remark.  The kiss had been unexpected and delightful but Uncle Oscar
would take the magic from it with -one of his rude remarks.  He said
nothing, which surprised her, and she went off to the kitchen feeling
relieved and at the same time amazed.  She would have been even more
surprised if she had seen his grin and heard his soft, "Well,
well--that I should live to see the day--always thought he was a
confirmed bachelor, too."  He polished his glasses and when Deborah got
back he was deep in his newspaper.

She dressed with great care on Sunday evening'd just as nice on her as
it had when she had bought it.  She fancied, erroneously, that its
sober colour subdued the carroty hair to an acceptable auburn, and, as
pleased with her person as her limited good looks allowed, she went
downstairs, back to Uncle Oscar's room, to wait for Sir James.  That
gentleman, she had no doubt, would have something nasty to say about
her appearance and she was prepared for that.  Only he wasn't nasty at
all.

"Amazing what a decent dress does for a girl," was all he said, a
remark which she might take whichever way she chose.  She was on her
hands and knees grovelling under a wall cabinet for Uncle Oscar's
second pair of slippers which he had kicked there in a fit of pique,
when Sir James came quickly into the room from the gar den.  He stood
for a moment admiring the shapely portion of Deborah's person visible,
before saying, "Good evening--can'I help?"  in just the right kind of
casual voice.

There was a gleam in his eye as he watched her wriggle out anrf.  stand
up but when she looked at him his face bore a look of such blandness
that she said matter-of-factly, "It's all right, thank you--just Mr.
Trent's slippers."  Then she added as an afterthought, "Hello."  He
smiled then.

"Hello, Deborah--I like the dress."

Uncle Oscar, uncharacteristically silent, snorted, , "I sup pose
you'll be back at all hours..."

"You overlook the fact that I've reached the years of discretion and
Deborah has to get up in the morning," said Sir James equably, a remark
which served to cast a shadow over Deborah's evening.  The awful
thought that he had asked her out from a sense of duty lay so heavy
upon her that she added her assurance with a briskness which she
repeated when they bade goodbye to the Soameses before going out to the
car.

Sir James had perceived his mistake and correctly read the look on
Deborah's face and laid himself out to smooth things over.  something
he did so well with undemanding small talk, aided by Bellum's obvious
delight at the sight of her, that after a while she decided that she
had been mistaken and began to enjoy her evening.

He had told her where they were going and it was only a short drive.

The Bell House was a country hotel just outside Chippenham, set in a
charming gar den.  Bellum, allowed to refresh himself for a few
minutes, got back into the car behind the wheel and they went into its
pleasant bar.  Sir James had chosen well; the restaurant was
charming;

Deborah, warmed by sherry, surveyed it from their table set in a small
alcove and noted with satisfaction that the other women there were
dressed very much as she was.  She gave a small sigh of relief and Sir
James allowed e been gardening all day and I am ravenous.  "

"Oh--you're staying somewhere near here?"

"Yes, not too far.  It is a very pretty garden even now that summer is
almost over.  I'll take you to see it when we leave here."

"It'll be dark."

"There is a full moon and it can be lighted from the house."

"They won't mind?  The people you're staying with?"

"No."  He smiled and her heart turned over, an ex citing sensation
which she tried to suppress by studying the menu.

"Mushrooms in garlic with a cream sauce," she said because she had to
say something ordinary as quickly as possible.

"And then fish--sole bonne femme please."

It wasn't until she was spooning up the last delicious mouthfuls of
peach melba that he began to probe, very delicately, the plans for her
future.

The Meursault 1989 Gauthay-Cadet had loosened her usually discreet
tongue.  Sir James topped up her glass and waited patiently.

"Well, I hope Mrs.  Soames will give me a good reference so that I can
go to a really good agency and get another job quickly.  Not in London,
of course, because I might meet Walter or Barbara..."

"You don't wish to see them again?"  His voice was very quiet.

"No, oh, no.  They don't like me, you see; we never got on..."  She
stopped then, suddenly aware that she was letting her tongue run away
with her.

"What a delightful place this is," she said chattily.

"I'm glad you like it."  He began to tell her about the hotel and her
suspicion that she had said too much about herself faded, just as he
had meant it to.

As they got back into the car he suggested that they make a small
detour.

"It is such a lovely evening and you can take a quick look at the
garden I was telling you about."

He drove north over the M4, going towards Malmesbury but turning off on
to a country road after a mile or two.  The moonlight was clear and
very bright and the fields and trees were silvered by it.  They passed
through a small village, little more than a handful of cottages and a
small church, and began to climb a gentle hill.  The road turned at the
top and dipped down towards another village, larger, with a- narrow
stream running alongside the road.  They passed a small village green
with the church at one side of it and a circle of cottages facing it
and at the end of the narrow street turned in through tall brick
pillars, to stop before a rambling half-timbered houge with steep
gables.  The walls were whitewashed and the windows small and
latticed.

Sir James got out and opened the door for her and then let Bellum out
from the back of the car.

"It's beautiful," said Deborah.

"Sixteenth century?  I e sure your friends won't mind?"  She looked
across the small sweep to the lighted windows to one side of the
door.

He took her arm and when she shivered said, "Wait, there's a scarf in
the car."  He fetched it and put it around her shoulders and went on
easily, "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear--not friends.  I live here
whenever I can get away from London.  You're right," he went on
smoothly before she could say anything, 'it is very old--1550, to be
exact.  Edward VI gave it to my ancestor and it's been in the family
ever since then.  Mary Tudor would have confiscated it but it was even
more rural than it is now and I imagine he lay low until Elizabeth came
to the throne.  He was a wily old man.  "

He pushed open the door and Bellum tore down the wide hall, barking
happily.  The staircase swept gracefully up one wall, not as old as the
house but blending its Georgian origins 'very nicely with the panelled
walls, and at the end of the passage a wide old door was flung open to
allow a very small plump Woman to, enter the hall.  -"She was severely
dressed, her hair, iron-grey, piled in a kind of whorl on top of her
head.  She had a round rosy face and twinkling brown eyes.

"There you are, Master James--and the young lady.  There is a nice
little fire in the drawing-room and a pot of coffee when you want
it."

"Thank you Polly.  Deborah, this is Polly, who looks after me here."

He smiled and Deborah offered her a hand and Polly said, "Well, miss,
it's a pleasure to meet you."

"We're going to take a quick look at the garden," said Sir James and
swept Deborah down the hall, through the delightfully old-fashioned
kitchen and out of the door beyond.

The sky was clear and the moon shone with a white radiance, even
revealing flowerbeds and lawns, twisting paths and clumps of trees,
arranged with careful haphazardness.

Very conscious of his hand tucked under her arm, Deborah asked, "Was it
always like this or have you made it?"

"A little of both.  I haven't changed the plan of the garden at all,
but of course I've planted a good deal.  My father and his father
planted more trees at the end of the lawn over there and I've put in a
swimming- pool well out of sight."

"Something smells lovely."

"A gorgeous mixture, isn't it?  There are still plenty of roses
although we've had the best of the herbaceous border."

"You must miss it..."

"Of course, but it's a quick run from London; I manage to spend most
weekends here."

They stopped walking for a moment to watch a hedgehog trot briskly
across the path.

"There is a e garden.  You like the country?"

They were going back towards the house, the lights from the windows
streaming towards them.

"Yes.  When I was a little girl we lived at Nether Wallop but when
Mother married again we moved to Hampstead."

"You never went back?"

"No.  My stepfather persuaded my mother to sell the house."  She hated
talking about it and he was quick to realise that.  He made a casual
remark about the trio of Wallop villages and suggested a cup of coffee
be fore he drove her back.

They went indoors then with Bellum trotting round them in circles down
the hall and into a long low- ceilinged room, beamed and plastered,
tapestry curtains covering the windows.  The furniture was a mixture of
oak, dark with age, and satinwood and apple wood and, drawn up close to
the fire, a Victorian table of burr "" walnut, support inga silver tray
on which stood a silver coffee-pot, simply chased and with a coat of
arms engraved upon it.  There was a matching cream jug and sugar' bowl
with it and two coffee-cups, the porcelain so thin that one could
almost see through it.  A small plate of wafer-thin biscuits completed
the tray's contents and Deborah, offered a seat and asked to pour, said
forthrightly, "I'm afraid to touch anything.  They're beautiful and old
and I might drop something."

"You have small neat hands," observed Sir James placidly, 'and the
things are in use every day when I am at home.  "

A remark which gave her the courage to pour the coffee.  He thought how
nicely she did it.

The brass lantern clock struck the hour with a silvery tinkle and
Deborah put down her cup and saucer.

"It's been a lovely evening" she began, 'and thank you very much for
taking me out.  I think I'd better go back now.  "

He agreed at once and she wondered if he had been a little bored with
her company.  His manners were far too good for her to be certain of
that but she thought that she wasn't the kind of companion he would
normally choose for an evening out.  She got into the car with Bellum
breathing great gusts of warm breath down her neck and reflected that
never mind if he had been bored, it had been an evening to treasure.

The Soameses were still in their drawing-room.

"Had a pleasant evening?"  asked Lottie.

"Uncle Oscar has gone to bed and I must say he has been a little
trying.  He said that you must go and say gopdnight to him, Deborah, or
he won't sleep."

"I'm sorry, Mrs.  Soames, I won't go out again in the evening..."  She
stopped, blushing fiercely, for it had sounded as though she had
expected that.

"I'll go and see him now on my way to bed.  Goodnight."

She .

"And thank you again for a delightful evening Sir James."

He sauntered towards her.

"It is I who was de lighted, Deborah."  He opened the door and as she
went past him brushed her cheek with a quick kiss.

Deborah fled across the hall, not looking back, and then crept into
Uncle Oscar's sitting-room and over to the half-open door leading to
his bedroom.  His bed side light was still on and she paused in the
door way.

"Hah!  So you're back, are you?  Enjoyed yourself, I'll be bound.  Did
he kiss you goodnight?"

He glared at her over his spectacles and then took them off and looked
away.

"Joking," he mumbled, for he had seen her face.

"We had a lovely dinner," she told him brightly, 'and then Sir James
took me to his house--I didn't know he lived only a few miles away. 
The garden was lovely--there was a hedgehog and the roses smelled so
sweet. " Her voice trailed away into silence and the old man said
gruffly, " Glad you had a good time.  Now go to bed.  "

"Yes, I will.  Can I do anything for you before I go, Mr.  Trent?"  He
heaved himself over in the half-tester bed.

"Nothing, I'm going to sleep."

Deborah had been in bed for some time before she heard the Bentley's
almost silent departure.  That was that, she told herself firmly; the
sooner she put the silly romantic ideas out of her head and bent her
mind e creeping by and she had made no plans for it.  A few
weeks-perhaps two months--and Uncle Oscar's daughter would be back
ready to whisk him back to his home.  It was a pity, thought Deborah
sleepily, that she couldn't decide what was the best thing to do.  She
had prudently saved most of her wages but a training of any sort would
take time and she didn't think she had enough to keep her for more than
three or four months, even living as cheaply as possible.  It would
have to be a job where she earned as she learned.  Teaching?  She
wasn't clever enough nor firm enough.  Nursing?  A roof over her head
and her meals and just enough money to get by but she wasn't sure if
she wanted to be a nurse.  She liked looking after people but the more
gruesome parts--theatre work, Casualty--she wouldn't be any good at
all.

Qualify as a nanny?  But there again the fees at a reputable training
college would be beyond her pocket.  It left domestic work, a
companion's post or a mother's help.  She went to sleep on the thought
and dreamed a dreadful muddle of missing trains, losing things and
getting lost so that she woke in the small hours in a flurry of
anxiety.

With the morning of course everything was reassuringly normal again.

Uncle Oscar was in a pettish mood and she was kept occupied for the
whole mom- inga nd at lunch Mrs.  Soames had a great deal to say d
were to attend in a few weeks' time.

"Old friends," she told Deborah, 'it's their eldest daughter's
eighteenth birthday and there will be any number of people there.  I
wondered, Deborah, if you would mind making sure that the children are
safely in their beds?  I know they'll be looked after but if you could
just cast an eye over them?  We're bound to be back very late.  "

"What about me?"  demanded Uncle Oscar.

"Miss here is supposed to look after me."

It took the rest of the meal and the promise of a game of chess to
placate him.

The weeks slipped peacefully along in their accustomed routine.

Summer was over and when Deborah went to Chippenham on her day off she
laid out some of her money on a corduroy skirt in dark brown, a couple
of shirt blouses and a honey-coloured wool sweater.  It was a 'second'
and therefore cheap but she thought it unlikely that anyone would
notice the small flaw halfway up the back.  She still had her suit and
a pair of stout shoes and the grey dress should she need to dress up at
any.  time--very unlikely, she told herself unless the Soameses had a
dinner party and expected her to attend.  So far, when they had had
guests, Uncle Oscar had refused to join them and the pair of them had
dined in his room.  Probably a relief for everyone concerned.  On the
day of the dinner dance Uncle Oscar de e declared when Deborah went to
wish him 'good morning'; he would breakfast in bed which meant that, in
order to keep the peace in the kitchen, she had to lay a tray, load it
with food and take it to him.

To her offers of something for the headache she received the sharp
observation that she could mind her own business, a remark which she
ignored, merely pouring his coffee for him, making sure that his boiled
egg was exactly as he liked it, and then taking herself off to the
dining room where she found the family already at breakfast.

Mrs.  Soames looked up as she sat down at the table.

"Good morning, Deborah.  I could hear Uncle raging--what's really
wrong?"

"I don't think it's anything to worry about; he said that he had a
headache but he is eating his breakfast."

"Oh, good.  I've a letter here from his daughter; she doesn't say
exactly when she will be back to collect him but very soon now."

Deborah said steadily, "I'm sure he will be very pleased to see her
again--I think he must be very fond of her."

"Oh, he is.  We'll talk about it tomorrow, shall wet There'll be no
time today.  It's half an hour's drive this evening.  We'll have to
leave soon after seven o'clock; do you suppose that you can persuade
Uncle Oscar to have dinner just a little bit later than usual so that
you can see to the children?"

"I'll think of something," said Deborah, surprised r insides were
trembling with the prospect of leaving although she reminded herself
that she had known that it would happen.  Anyway she would have to wait
until tomorrow when Mrs.  Soames would have time to talk to her about
it.  She finished her breakfast with her usual calm and went back to
Uncle Oscar, who was stomp inga round his sitting-room, demanding hot
water and another pot of coffee.

"Is the headache better?"  asked Deborah mildly.

"Headache, miss?  I never have headaches."  He was difficult all day;
Deborah had no time to worry about her own concerns and by the time the
Soameses were ready to leave that evening she was tired and rather
cross.  Uncle Oscar had tried her patience to its utmost limit and it
was a great relief to leave him grumbling and growling to himself while
she went upstairs to say goodnight to the children, which gave the
housekeeper time to go to the kitchen and see about' dinner a meal
which passed off with him in a slightly better frame of mind, so that
after a few games of racing demon he retired to bed.  Deborah took
another look at the children and went to bed herself to lie wide awake
and worry.  Mrs.  Soames, full of gossip about the evening's
entertainment had her coffee with her uncle and Deborah the next
morning.  It had been a marvelous evening she told them, "Crowds of
people I had never met before, but so nice to see old friends and ac I
haven't seen for years--just imagine meetingagain after all this time.
She had brought along some friends staying with her; we had such an
interesting talk."  Uncle Oscar dropped off to sleep after a time and
Mrs.  Soames put down her coffee-cup, cast a look at him to make sure
that he really was asleep and said, "His daughter's coming back
tomorrow--rather earlier than expected--I think we'd better tell him
when he wakes up, don't you?  Will you stay on for a day or two,
Deborah, get his things packed up and so on?  He's going to miss you."
She smiled her friendly smile.

"I dare say you've got a job to go to?  Someone like you must be worth
her weight in gold.  Stay until the end of the week so that you have
time to make any arrangements..."

Deborah thanked her.  She liked Mrs.  Soames; warm-hearted and kind and
quite unaware of how the other half lived.  The end of the week would
suit her very well, she told her.  Uncle Oscar, when told the news,
expressed his pleasure in no uncertain terms at the same time wanting
to know about Deborah.

"Where will you go?"  he demanded to know.

"To another job," she told him serenely so that he took it for granted
that she had one waiting for her.

"I'll miss you" he told her gruffly.

"I'll miss you too."

She spent the rest of the day sorting out his books'd essential for
his comfort, and on the following morning she got Edith to fetch his
luggage and started to pack for him.

She was halfway through this task, on her knees before the bookcase
sorting out what was to go and what was to be left, when Edith appeared
at the door.

"Visitors for you Miss Everett," she said as she ushered in Barbara and
Walter.

She got to her feet, speechless with shock, and it was Uncle Oscar,
coming out of his bedroom with a pile of old magazines, who asked, "Who
are these people?  Did I invite them?"

"I'm sorry, Mr.  Trent, they are people I know.  Edith showed them in
here.  I expect she thought I was alone."

"Well, you're not," said the old man testily.

"What do they want?"

Walter advanced, hand outstretched.

"May I intro duce myself and my 'sister?  Walter and Barbara, Deborah's
stepbrother and sister."  Uncle Oscar ignored the hand.

"Well, what do you want?"

"Why, to see Deborah."  Walter was at his most pompous.

"We were at a party yesterday, you know, staying with old friends,
great pals of Mrs.  Soames's it seems.  She had a great deal to say
about Deborah.  We were wondering where she was.  It couldn't be a
better time."  He smiled around him.

"I heard that she f course, come home with us."

"No," said Deborah and added, "And you can't make me."

"You have no job to go to?"  asked Walter and, be fore she could think
up a suitable fib, he said, "No, I see that you haven't--in that case
there is no reason why you shouldn't come back home with us."

"There is a good reason," Sir James's quiet voice, and his firm hand
grasping hers, sent Deborah's heart thudding.

"Deborah and I are going to be married."  He let go of her hand and
flung a great arm around her shoulders.

"How very fortunate that I should get here in time to make that quite
clear."

CHAPTER SEVEN

uncle oscar might be old and crochety but there was nothing wrong with
his wits.

"Ah, James, I was expecting you.  Come to fetch Deborah, have you?"  He
studied Barbara and Walter with a cold eye.

"No need for you to be here, is there?  Nice to have met you good day.
Edith will show you out."

"I don't believe it," Walter blustered.  He caught Sir James's cold eye
and added uncertainly, "We've rather lost touch."  Sir James took his
arm from Deborah and went to the door.  He didn't say anything at all
as Barbara and Walter went past him and it was only when he had shut
the door with a decisive snap behind them that she saw that he was very
angry.

She said in a small voice.

"I'm sorry about that.  I had no idea--I den't know how they discovered
that I was here."

"At the party, weren't they?  Heard them say so."  Uncle Oscar was
peering at her over his spectacles.

"Got news of you.  Want you home, do they?"

Deborah shivered.

"I couldn't possibly..."  She addressed Sir James's passive face.

"Thank you very

 Despite her best efforts two tears trickled down her cheeks and she
put up a hand and wiped them aside.

"Now, now, no tears."  Sir James was briskly firm and friendly.

"You shan't go with them if you don't want to.  You're quite safe
here."

"No, she isn't--my daughter's coming today, Deborah's off somewhere or
other.  Tricky situation."

"Easily solved.  I'm here for lunch.  Be ready to leave about two
o'clock, will you?"

"Leave?  But where am I going?"

"You'll stay in safe hands until you've fixed up another job.  Don't
argue, there's a good girl, just do as I say and trust me."  She gave
him a thoughtful look, the tears still trick ling.  She gave a small
sniff.

"Of course I trust you.  You didn't have to say that we were--were
going to be married, you know."

"It was the first thing that entered my head," he told her
carelessly.

"As long as they don't cross your path again, they'll not know anything
different."

"Well, thank you very much, I'm very grateful."

She blew her small nose in a no-nonsense manner.

"I'll let Mrs.  Soames know you're here, shall I?"  She's downstairs
with Mrs.  Hewish.  " She went to the door and with her hand on it
paused.

"Do you suppose they've gone?"

"Ah--stupid of me.  I'll have a look."  Sir James went past her,
closing the door behind him, and Uncle Oscar said, "A very reliable
man, is James.  You can trust him."  Sir James came back this time with
Bellum at his heels.

"Edith assures me that they have gone."  He held the door for her and
she went past him into the hall.  Edith was there.

She said in an apologetic voice, "I'm sorry, miss-they said you were
expecting them, and Mrs.  Soames being downstairs..."

"It's all right, Edith, it wasn't in the least your fault.  They've
gone."

"Yes, miss.  Staying with those friends of Mrs.  Soames's for the party
last night."

She went on downstairs and found Mrs.  Soames, happily unaware of the
visitors but delighted that Sir James had arrived.

"In the drawing-room, is he?"

"With Mr.  Trent.  Shall I ask him to go to the drawing-room?"

"No, no.

I'll come and fetch him myself.  We can all have coffee.  " It didn't
seem quite the right time to tell Mrs.  Soames that she would be
leaving that afternoon; any way, Sir James, with his polished bedside
manner, would deal with that.

He did too, with a calm good sense which made the whole thing seem
ordinary and rather amusing.  Mrs.  Soames, once she had lea mt what
had happened, was full of apologies.

"My tongue," she said unhappily, "I should have held it--gossiping
like that."  She's boosting you to the skies, I suppose.  I hadn't
seen these friends for ages and of course they talked about you.  I had
no idea, Deborah.  "

Deborah murmured something.  Everything was actually happening so fast
that she hadn't caught up; of one thing she was certain, she had to
know just where Sir James was taking her.

Lottie Soames beamed around her.

"I must say, that was some quick thinking on your part, James; what a
good thing..."  She caught his eye and almost without a pause went on,
"Deborah, if you are to leave us after lunch, you'll want to pack.  I'm
sorry you have to go like this but you don't want to meet those horrid
people again, do you?  We're all so sorry to see you go."

Deborah went, pursued by grumbles from Uncle Oscar who was complaining
that life would be dull without her.

"I shall come to the wedding," he told Sir James in a belligerent
voice.

"Of course you shall," said Sir James promptly, and Mrs.  Soames said,
"You're joking, of course."  And then as an after thought she asked.

"You're not thinking of getting married, James?  After all this
time..."

"The idea has crossed my mind."

"Oh, good, and about time too.  I suppose it's no good me asking
anything else?"

"No good at all, Lottie."

"How about a game of chess?"  Uncle Oscar had got to his feet.

"It's hours to lunch."

When Deborah went downstairs presently, her things packed, wearing the
suit once more, she found the two men at their game.

"Go away, miss," said Uncle Oscar.

"This is a serious game and I won't be distracted."

She studied the chessboard.

"If you moved your pawn--' " Oh, go away and wash your hair or whatever
women do.  " He put out a hand and caught hers.

"I shall miss you."

"And I you Mr.  Trent, but the world's a very small place and we're
bound to meet again."

"I'd forgotten.  I'm definitely coming to dance at your wedding."

"Oh, good, only wait until I find a husband, won't you?"

"Don't leave it too long, I'll not be around forever.  Now go away,
do--James has put me on the spot and I need to think."  She had hoped
that Sir James would have told her where he was taking her but he
hadn't spoken.  She went in search of Mrs.  Soames and found her with
her'll feet up on one of the sofas.

"I'm still getting over the dance, I can't do without my sleep and it
will be days before I'm fit for any thing.  Thank heaven my cousin's
coming.

"I've phoned Peter; he's coming back for lunch-he'll give you a
cheque."  She said anxiously, "You don't feel that we're getting rid of
you?"

"No, of course not, Mrs.  Soames.  I know you asked me to stay for a
day or two but there's really no need, is there?  And I would like to
get away as soon as possible.  Walter is a very persistent man.  I hope
he won't come bothering you."

"He'll get short shrift if he does," said Mrs.  Soames cheerfully.

"Besides, he thinks you're going to marry James, and I don't suppose he
knows who he is any way!  So he'll have lost all track of you."

Deborah said, "Yes," doubtfully, wondering just where Sir James was
taking her.  Perhaps he knew of a job.  She had no chance to ask him;
Mrs.  Soames's cousin arrived before lunch apparently once more ready
and willing to look after her irascible parent and Deborah spent some
time with her since Uncle Oscar, once he had greeted his daughter, told
her to go away until the game of chess was finished.  At lunch the
conversation ranged over a vast number of topics and not one of them
personal and afterwards Mr.  Soames took her off to his study to give
her a reference and her cheque with a generous addition since she had
been so splendid with Uncle Oscar and was having to leave rather sooner
than they had in tended.

"Don't know what Lottie would have done without you" her employer told
her in his friendly way.

"The old man's a handful and even though we're very fond of him it'll
be a relief when he goes home in a couple of days' time.

Got enough money, have r you-that was a stroke of luck that he turned
up just in time to get rid of your stepbrother and sister.  "

She agreed quietly.  It had indeed been a stroke of luck, but where was
it leading?  The moment she was in the car she would find out.  As he
drove away she waved to the little group standing on the porch and then
settled back in her seat, Bellum as usual huffing and puffing gently
into the back of her neck.

"Sir James..."  she began and stopped because she wasn't sure how to go
on.  He obligingly helped her.

"I must admire your restraint, Deborah; you do so want to know where
you are going, don't you?"

"Well, of course I do."  She sounded peevish, what with the morning's
unpleasant excitement and the rush to pack and say goodbye.

"To my old nanny.  I would have taken you to my mother but she's in
Scotland with one of my sisters."

"But she" might not want to have me.  "

"She will be delighted; she loves mothering people, animals,
birds--anything living.  You stay there for a day or two and get your
breath and decide what you want to do."

"Well, yes, thank you--I must find something."  She tried not to sound
so worried.

"You will.  There has hardly been time yet, has there?"  he reminded
her gently.

"No.  I'm being silly--sorry--only everything hap'd to see Walter and
Barbara."

"You're afraid of them?"  His voice was very kind.

"Yes, a little--Walter--they don't like to be thwarted, you see."

"I

didn't take to him," said Sir James in a dry voice.

"I think that you will be safe enough with Nanny and when you get a job
allow me to check thoroughly before you accept it."

"You're awfully kind."

"I would do the same thing for my sisters or friends."  A remark which
she felt rather put her in her place.  All the same she persevered,
"Where does she live, your nanny?"

"East Garston--north of Hunger ford.  We can use the motorway for
almost the whole trip.  She expects us for tea."

She looked at him and he added, "I' phoned her while you were
packing."

She sat quietly then, turning over in her mind what was best to be
done.  She was a bit hazy as to where East Garston was but if it was
near Hunger ford then Swindon and Henley-on-Thames, even Reading,
weren't too far away, and surely there would be work of some kind in
one of them.  It would have to be a job as mother's help for no one
would expect training for such work, although heaven knew she had had
enough of that.  Several months, perhaps a year, in n train for
something.  Perhaps nursing was the answer after all but she hesitated
to ask Sir James about that; he might think that she expected him to
help her even more than he had already done.

It wasn't a great distance and twelve miles or so after he had
by-passed Swindon Sir James turned off on to a side-road and then
slowed the car into a narrow country road, going slowly downhill.  The
village looked delightful: a nice mixture of thatch and red tiles as
they entered its main street, and lining the road to the grey Norman
church were whitewashed cottages each with its own small bridge over
the little stream running before their doors.  He stopped before the
last cottage in the row and got out to open Deborah's door and release
Bellum, who pranced across the bridge to bark happily at the person
stand ingat the open door.

Deborah had been worrying about Nanny; she might dislike her otr sight.
Nannies were known to be decisive people with sharp tongues and she had
been foisted on her at a moment's notice.  She need not have worried,
'however; Sir James hugged the stout little person, kissed her cheek
and said, "Well, Trotty, here is Deborah.  I know you'll look after
her."

Deborah put out a hand and had it shaken while elderly blue eyes
studied her face.

"That I will, love.  Come in, tea's ready and Mr.  James, just you keep
that Bellum of yours nice and quiet--my Maudie has .

They're in the kitchen by the stove.  "

She had ushered them into a small room, rather full of furniture, with
photos in a variety of frames arranged wherever there was a space.  A
small round table had been covered by a white cloth with a crocheted
edge, and plates and cups and saucers laid upon it.  There was a plate
of thin bread and butter, a sponge cake and a substantial fruit cake on
a glass stand.

"Made the cake this morning," said Nanny, 'but you'll eat your bread
and butter first.  " She bustled away to make the tea and then came
back again.

"I dare say Deborah would like to wash her hands," she said and Deborah
obediently got up and went up the narrow winding staircase.  The
landing was just large enough to turn round in and there were three
doors. Nanny opened one of these.

"There you are, love.  The towels on the rail are yours.  Your room is
here."

She opened another door.

"But you can settle in once Mr.  James has gone.  I'll fetch that
tea..."

She trotted away and when Deborah went down stairs she found the
sitting-room empty.

"We're in the kitchen," said Sir James.

"Come in here and see Maudie's family."

The little cat was a tabby with a great deal of white on her chest and
paws and the kittens were a mixture of ginger, black and tabby.  They
all ignored their visitors even Bellum, sniffing cautiously over the
rim of the basket, was ignored.

"Nice, eh?"  said Nanny.

"You'd enough to leave their Ma."

"Thank you Trotty; Tibbies will doubtless take it under her wing."  He
glanced at Deborah.

"Tibbies is my housekeeper's cat--not at the cottage--in London."

They had a splendid tea and presently Sir James got up to go.  He
kissed Trotty's plump cheek, assured Deborah that he would see her
again at some time, and, with a friendly nod, whistled to Bellum and
went back over the bridge to his car, got in and drove away with a
careless wave.

She had been left, reflected Deborah indignantly, like a parcel at the
post office.  The sooner she got work and went away the better.  Loving
a man who treated you like an object of charity was very wearing.  It
was a great pity that despite that she loved him still.

"Now up you go and put away your things," said Nanny, and when Deborah
said meekly, "Yes, Miss Trott," she said, "You have no call to say
that, dearie, everyone calls me Trotty, so I hope you'll do the same.
It'll be a great treat to have company.  I like a bit of a gossip."

Deborah unpacked in the little room with its small white bed and
coloured counterpane and flowered curtains at the window.  There was a
cupboard in one wall and a chest of drawers as well as a small
dressing-table.

She went downstairs and found Trotty in the kitchen, frying sausages.

When she said how pretty her room was, Trotty said, "Well, love, the
children come here off and on."  She didn't volunteer any more
information and Deborah didn't like to ask and presently they sat down
to their supper while Trotty gave her all the news of the village.

"You'll get to know them soon enough," she told Deborah, 'they're very
friendly folk.  "

"Well, I should think I wouldn't be here long enough for that.  I
thought I'd go into Hunger ford to morrow if you don't mind and see
about find inga Job."

"You take my advice and wait a day or two, love.  Sir James wouldn't
like that at all.  Told me you was to rest up for a day or two--had a
nasty shock, he said.  You'd do better to spy out the land a bit.

Trained, are you?  " and when Deborah shook her head.

"Then you'd do better in Reading or Henley."

They washed up the supper things together and had a cup of tea before
Deborah was sent to bed in the kindest possible manner.

"Breakfast at eight o'clock, love--and have your bath tonight--there's
plenty of hot water."

There was sense in Trotty's advice.  Deborah spent the next two days
looking at bus timetables, deciding on which town she would try
first.

She would need to go to the bank anyway; she had a cheque to pay in and
she needed to know just how much money she'd be bus fares and meals
and fees at the agencies.  She had also to buy a raincoat before the
wet weather came.

She went down to breakfast on the third day and told Trotty that she
would like to go into Newbury.  It had been a town she had overlooked
but there was a bus service and it wasn't too far, yet large enough to
have her bank and possibly some kind of an agency.

"Bus goes in half an hour," said Trotty briskly.

"You go, love, and look round.  There's a nice little cafe in the High
Street but you come back in good time for your tea, mind."

Newbury was larger than she had expected; she had a cup of coffee, took
a quick look at the shops, found her bank and then began to search for
an agency.  She found one down a small side-street and since it looked
prosperous and well kept, she went inside.

Going back into the street presently, she marvelled at her good luck.

There were three jobs which were suitable--all of them for a mother's
help and all of them in Newbury.  She had been advised to write and
apply to all of them before going for interviews.  She had had to pay a
fee, of course, and if she took one of the jobs offered she would have
to pay a percent age of her first week's pay too.  Not an impulsive
girl, she was carried away with her good fortune and bought paper and
envelopes and found a post office where she wrote her letters at one of
the side-counters 162 WAITING FOR DEBORAH and posted them there and
then.  This done, she found the cafe Trotty had recommended and had a
rather extravagant meal, and then had another look at the shops and a
sharp-eyed tour of Marks and Spencer.  She would need one or two things
if she got a job.  She told Trotty all about it when she got back and
Trotty listened without interruption and when she had finished said,
"Mr.  James said he'd look 'em over, didn't he?  You'd better wait and
see what he says."

Deborah agreed reluctantly.

"If I don't hear from him in a few days, though, I think I'd better at
least go for interviews if they want them.  I might be miss inga good
job.  I'm sure Sir James is a very busy man and must have a great many
other things to think about."

"He'll telephone, I have no doubt," said Trotty.

Deborah received replies to each of her letters, all of them asking her
to go for an interview, and there had been no word from Sir James.

Trotty waited until Deborah had gone to the village shop and then tele
phoned his house in London.  Dobbs, as mournful as ever, told her that
he had been called away to foreign parts.

"Some high and mighty had a stroke or some thing," he explained.

"No telling when he'll be back."

Trotty didn't tell Deborah that she had telephoned but she read the
three letters carefully and reluctantly and agreed that she should at
least go and see what kind of jobs they were.  So Deborah made appoint
o Newbury again.

The first one was no good; the lady of the house wanted a strong girl
capable of lifting her obese mother in and out of bed, feeding her and
getting her in and out of the bath.  They agreed mutually that Deborah
wasn't suitable.  The second was more hopeful until it was disclosed
that one of the four children in the family was an epileptic and that
Deborah would be responsible for her both day and night.  At the third
house things seemed more than suitable.  She was shown her room; small
but very clean and neat and she would have reasonable free time.  There
would be a certain amount of housework, of course, and there were three
schoolchildren but there was a daily cleaner too.  The house was in a
pleasant part of the town and the wages were adequate although not
overgenerous.  Deborah agreed to start working in two days' time and,
on the strength of security in the fore seeable failure, went to Marks
and Spencer and bought herself a raincoat.

She went back to Trotty feeling that at least she bad made a start?  ,
The niggling thought that Sir James had said that he wanted to know of
any job she might want to take bothered her a little but it was some
time now since he had gone and she had to have work as soon as
possible.

When Deborah had gone to bed Trotty took it upon herself to telephone
Sir James again.  Dobbs answered.

No word of Sir James--he sounded more depressed than ever--but then, he
pointed out, he very seldom let his household know when he would
return; he would just turn up some day, back from a remote part of the
world.

"Well, let me know when he does get back," said Miss Trott.

"It's urgent."

Deborah hated leaving the dear little cottage and her kind hostess.

Trotty had refused to let her contribute to her keep so she had gone
into Hunger ford and bought an early morning tea set.  She didn't think
that Trotty would use it but she might if she had a guest and she
seemed delighted with it.

Deborah had no chance to repine.  Mrs.  Woods was pleasant enough, the
children much like any other children--she had met them when she had
gone for her interview and they were quite prepared to accept her as a
member of the household--but after the first day or two she was
expected to do rather more than she had been told; the daily cleaner
was by no means reliable and on the days when she chose not to turn up
Deborah had her hands more than full.  Moreover, Mrs.  Woods had
frequent attacks of migraine.  Nevertheless, she was determined to make
the best of it and when she wrote to Trotty she took care to paint a
cheerful picture of her life.  She was lonely after the old lady's
bracing company and she missed Maudie and the kittens and above all
she minded very much e was a busy man, she understood that, and he must
have dozens of friends and it was easy to forget her.  It was a pity,
she reflected sadly, that she couldn't forget him.

He hadn't forgotten her but, caught up on the other side of the world
doing his best to keep alive a man for whom it was important to stay
that way, he had tucked her into the back of his mind while his skilled
brain coped with the situation.  It was a remote part of the globe and
even if he could have telephoned or sent a cable he had no hope of
following them up at the moment.  He was a man of patience and
selfcontrol and for the moment there was nothing to be done about it.

Deborah had been with Mrs.  Woods just over a week when the eldest
child became ill, coughing and sneezing and with streaming eyes.  It
wasn't long be fore a rash appeared on the child's forehead and he was
put to bed.

"Measles,-', said Mrs.  Woods, 'and I suppose the other two will catch
it!"

Which they did on the same day that Mrs.  Woods declared that she wauld
have to stay in her room with a migraine and the daily cleaner,
announcing that she wasn't going to work where there was illness,
walked out of the house.

The children were feverish and ill and Deborah was forced to tiptoe
into Mrs.  Woods's room and ask if she could get the doctor.

"It's only measles," said Mrs.  Woods, 'but I suppose he had better
come.  "

He was a pleasant man, overworked and tired, but he examined the
children, pronounced them to be feverish advised that their rooms be
darkened and said that he could come again if Deborah was worried.

There was no time to be worried; Mr.  Woods was a traveller in
insurance and away for days at a time, Mrs.  Woods declared herself
unable to lift her head from the pillow; Deborah ploughed her way
through the next few days, glad to find that the children rap idly
improved and that Mrs. Woods was able to face some of the easier chores
around the house.

At least, now that she was feeling better, Deborah was able to go to
the shops and buy their food.  It was almost a week later when Deborah,
after a restless night, got up with all the symptoms of a heavy cold,
took a look in the mirror and saw the red blotches on her fore head.

It was awkward to say the least.  She dressed, hoping that she would
feel better as the day wore on, but the rash, by the time she was ready
to go downstairs, was spreading rapidly.  There was nothing for it but
to go and tell Mrs.  Woods.

That lady received the news coldly.

"Who is to look after the children?"  she wanted to know.

"I feel my migraine coming on and I simply cannot cope.  You will have
to do the best you can while I think of something.  After all, it is
only measles."

Deborah wasn't listening; she felt ill and keeping on her feet was
becoming more and more hazardous, besides she felt very cold.  With a
whispered apology she fell in a tidy heap on to Mrs.  Woods's bed room
carpet.

Sir James, returning at last to his house in London, was met in the
hall by Dobbs, looking more solemn than ever.  Sir James, exchanging
civilities with him, asked briskly if there was any news.

"Good or bad," he added, 'for you look remarkably down in the mouth.
"

"Well, I am, so to speak," said Dobbs.

"There's Nanny Trott telephoning me something frantic-wants to speak to
you the minute you get back and me not having the least idea when that
would be since, begging your pardon, Sir James, you never let fall so
much as a hint..."

Sir James had divested himself of his coat and his case; now he said
sharply.

"When did Trotty first tele phone, Dobbs?"

"Quite a while ago," said his devoted servant with irritating
vagueness.

"Something to do with-the young lady leaving for a job, but the last
few days she's phoned very often, every day at least--sometimes
twice."

Sir James crossed to his study, received Bellum's delighted welcome in
an absentminded manner and picked up the phone.

"What's wrong, Trotty?"

Miss Trott wasted no time in polite enquiries concerning his trip.

"Deborah--she's written to me faithful-like twice a week and I've heard
nothing for four days and it's not like her; besides I've got one of my
feelings."

"Where is she, Trotty?"  He sounded so matter-of- fact that she calmed
down a little.

"That's just it--she waited to hear from you and there was this job in
Newbury; she thought you'd forgotten her, very sure of that she was,
said the job was too good to miss, went almost two weeks ago and
promised to write at least twice a week and drat me I've mislaid the
woman's name so I can't telephone."

"You have her address?"

"Yes, I've kept her letters."

Sir James glanced at his watch.  He had returned on an overnight
flight, a long one, and he was tired and hungry and there was work
waiting for him.

"There are one or two things I must see to, Trotty, but I'll be with
you some time this afternoon.  Don't worry--the letter might have gone
astray or Deborah may have forgotten to write."

He hung up and went away to shower and shave and change and presently
went downstairs to find Dobbs in the hall.

"You'll have your breakfast, sir-body and soul must be kept together.
I've put your letters by the table so that you can do two things at
once."  Sir James laid a hand on Dobb's shoulder.

"What's I'm famished."  He worked while he ate, by the time he had
finished he had dealt with his post, telephoned his registrar, his
receptionist, several of his colleagues at the hospital, and planned
the week ahead.  That done, he asked Dobbs to pack him a bag once more,
got into his car, this time with Bellum for company, and drove himself
down to Trotty's little cottage.

Trotty said ruefully, "I shouldn't have let her go, but how was I to
stop her, determined as she was...?"

"Don't blame yourself, Trotty.  It's my fault, I had an urgent call to
attend a patient in one of the more inaccessible parts of the world,
and I had no idea that I would have to remain there with him for so
long.  Now, let me have the address and I'll go and see what Deborah is
up to."

"She's such a dear girl--don't you be angry with her, Mr.  James." 
Miss Trott sounded just like a nanny.

"YouJike her, don't you?"  He smiled at her.

"Oh, yes, Trotty, I do.  We'll be back presently."  < He left Bellum in
the car and knocked on Mrs.  Woods's door and when Mrs.  Woods opened
it said, "Good afternoon.  I understand that Miss Deborah Everett works
for you.  I wonder if I might see her?"

Mrs.  Woods eyed him with hard eyes.

"Works for me?  That's a laugh.

Caught the kids' measles and e and the daily woman not coming.  who
are you anyway?  "

"James Marlow.  I am a doctor and an old family friend of Miss
Everett's.  I heard that she was working here and came to see her.  I
had no idea that she was ill."

"Only been here a couple of weeks.  Suited us very well but of course I
can't have her ill in bed; she'll have to go."

"Of course, Mrs...?"  He paused with an enquiring smile.

"Woods?  If possible I can take her back to her friend's house and
relieve you of the responsibility."

"Well, you'd better come in.  You are a doctor, aren't you and you do
know Deborah?"

"Indeed I am and I do."

She led the way upstairs.

"Terribly sorry the place is a bit untidy--all three children have had
the measles and of course my migraine..."

He could hear the children; they sounded as though they were
quarrelling and Mrs.  Woods paused on the stairs.

"My husband is away--he's a salesman; he has no idea.  I wasn't brought
up to this kind of life, Doctor."

She opened one of the doors on the landing and he followed her in.

Deborah lay in bed, her colourful hair in an untidy unbrushed tangle
all over the pillow.  Her eyes were puffy, her face too, and the
measles had spread themselves lavishly in all directions.  She t over
and above that she looked ill.

Sir James stood and looked at her from the foot of the bed and thought
that she was the most beautiful girl in the world and at the same time
gave way to self-mockery at such a ridiculous idea.  Not that he
allowed his thoughts to show.

"Miss Everett appears to be ill.  You have had the doctor?"

Mrs.  Woods looked guilty.

"Well, I had thought I'd get him to come today.  He came to see the
children, but it's only measles--look how quickly they're get ting over
it."

He didn't reply and Deborah coughed painfully and opened her eyes.  She
said in a husky voice.

"Better late than never."  She frowned.

"You forgot but it's quite all right.  Please go away, I'm not feeling
very well."

He picked up a hot hand.

"I've come to take you to Trotty," he told her.

"I wonU go--all that extra work for her."  She coughed again.  Sir
James spoke crisply.

"You cannot stay here, Mrs.  Woods has more than enough to do without
nursing you Deborah."  She opened her eyes again.

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm such a nuisance.  I could go to hospital."

She spoke in a peevish mutter.

"Leave everything to me," said Sir James at his most soothing, and,
since her head ached and she was l into a fitful sleep.  She was aware
during the next half-hour or so of | being disturbed but she was too
weary to wake up.

CHAPTER EIGHT

when Deborah did at last rouse herself she woke to see that she was
back in her pretty little room at Trotty's cottage.  Trotty was on one
side of the bed and Sir James on the other.  They were both looking at
her, one with the brisk regard of a dyed-in-the-wool nanny intent on
restoring her charge to a state of cleanliness and comfort, the other
with a look of resigned tenderness.  It was no good, reflected Sir
James, Deborah had come into his life and wasn't going to go again.

He had a perfect bedside manner; he assumed it now.

"You are back with Trotty," he told her in a comforting, firm voice.

"She is going to make you comfortable and then I shall examine you. You
have had quite a bad dose of measles."

Deborah's wits were still woolly; she was searching for a polite answer
as he left the room.  Somehow that upset her and she began to weep, the
tears pouring down her grubby cheeks.  Trotty said comfortingly, "Now,
now, everything's all right now, dearie.  Just you let old Trotty give
you a nice wash and a clean nightie."  She gave Deborah's measly person
a hug and went to fetch a basin.

Half an hour later Deborah was lying back against her pillows.  Her
hair had lost a lot of its glory but at least it was brushed and
plaited tidily and she was clean once more and in one of her fresh
cotton nighties She wished weakly that she had something pret tier to
put on but that didn't really matter--all the silk and lace in the
world wouldn't disguise the blotchy rash.

Trotty had been quick and truly gentle but Deborah was tired out now.

She very soon closed her eyes, content to be clean and comfortable;

she would take a nap.

Then Sir James came back, dwarfing everything in the room with his vast
size.  He said in an impersonal voice, "That's better.  I'm going to
examine you Deborah.  You have a nasty cough and I want to make sure
that it's no worse than that."

She opened one eye.

"Oh--yes, of course.  I feel much better, thank you."

He ignored this useless remark and Trotty turned back the bedclothes
with a crisp, "Now you just do what Sir James tells you love."  So
Deborah breathed in and out, coughed and said "One-one-one' when he
told her to and stuck out her tongue and had her eyes examined and her
ears peered into.  The thought crossed her mind that he probably was
paid a large fee for doing just that to his patients.  She asked him,
suddenly wishing to know, " Do you get many patients with measles?  "

Sir James, who hadn't seen a Koplik's spot for many years, assured her
gravely that he didn't.

She would feel much better in a day or so, he told her in a low, kind
voice.  All she had to do was to stay quietly in bed, take the pills he
prescribed for her and eat and drink what Trotty offered her.

"Are you going away again?"

He sat carefully on the side of the bed.

"Yes, but I shall return to see how you are getting on."

"I'll be all right, really I will.  You don't need to bother.  I expect
you're very busy."  She stopped to cough.

"Yes.  Deborah, you are to do as I say, is that understood?  You have a
chest infection as well as measles.  That will soon clear with the
antibiotics but I must insist that you do as Trotty tells you."  She
nodded and held out a hand, to have it clasped in his firm grasp.

"I

promise.  "

"Good.  Now go to sleep."

So she did and when she woke, much refreshed, it was to learn from
Trotty that Sir James had gone back to London.  '<3of to catch up
on-his work," said Trotty chattily, proffering pills and homemade
lemonade.

"Him being away for all that time, it piled up."

"Was he on holiday?"  asked Deborah in her tired little voice.

"Lord bless you no, love.  Been thousands of miles away being
consulted by some V.I.P, and not one of e back if you see what I mean.
Now you go to sleep again and presently I shall bring up your supper
and you'll have every scrap or my name's not Trott."  It took several
days before Deborah began to feel better;

ample time in which to think about Sir James.  Each morning when she
woke she hoped that he might come, only to tell herself that he was a
busy man with a life of his own and there was no need for him to visit
her.  He could have telephoned, she thought tiredly, but then why
should he?  He telephoned each evening long after she was asleep, and
received a painstaking report from Trotty, and one night, quite late,
he came. He trod soft-footed up the narrow stairs and stood by her bed,
looking down at her.  How small she looked and still rather fragile,
but the rash was fading and her hair was be ginning to glow once more. 
She looked very young, carroty lashes lying on her cheeks, her mouth
slightly open.  He bent and kissed her very gently and went downstairs
to Trotty's coffee and sandwiches.

"You ought to be in your bed," said Trotty gruffly.

"Driving is very restful, my dear, and I have no patients until midday
tomorrow."  He studied her nice elderly face.

"You're not getting tired?  Say the word and I'll have help here within
a couple of hours."

"Since when have I needed help, Mr.  James?  Thank you all the same.
The child's no trouble--as good as gold and does just what she's told
to do.  She's un .

"What's to become of her?"  She peered at him over her spectacles when
he didn't give an answer and then nodded her head.

"Well, well--that I should live to see the day..."

Sir James gave Bellum the last of his sandwich and got up to go.

"Take good care of her, Trotty."  He gave his old nanny a hug.

"And look after yourself.  I have to go to Edinburgh for a couple of
days but I'll be back as soon as I can.  If you want me, get hold of
Dobbs-he will know where I am."

"Am I to tell Deborah that you came tonight?"

"No, don't do that, my dear."  He whistled to Bellum who had gone to
look for more sandwiches and then got into his car and drove away.  As
he drove he considered the future; he was deeply in love with Deborah,
but he wasn't sure if she loved him.  It seemed to him, a man of no
conceit, that any feelings she might have for him would be born of
gratitude and to take advantage of that was entirely against his
principles.  Now, what was to be done with her?  Yet another job?

Somewhere where he could see her regularly?  Persuade her to stay with
Trotty?  He thought it unlikely that she would accept charity for a
moment longer than she had to.  Should he let her go?  Let her find
another job so that she would feel free to live her own life, make new
friends, perhaps meet some younger man.  It seemed to be the , of
course, for until she was quite well she was in his care, but once she
was on her feet and fit again he would take care to distance himself
from her; leave her to find her own feet.  Only he would have to know
where she was so that should she need help he could be there.

Deborah, unaware that her future was being planned for her in a manner
which wouldn't have pleased her at all if she had known about it,
rapidly improved.  The rash went, colour came back into her cheeks and
her hair, washed and shining once more, glowed with good health.  She
would have been perfectly happy if only she could have seen Sir James
now and then, but it was another week before hear arrived early one
morning.  He was on the way to his cottage, he explained to them, and
thought he would call in and see how she was getting on.

"I'm quite well again," she told him, 'and I'd like to start looking
for another job.  "

His ready agreement to this sent her heart into her shoes; he wanted to
be rid of her and she couldn't blame him but all the same the prospect
of a future without him, even infrequent glimpses of him, was hardly to
be borne.

"Have you any ideas?"  he asked her.

"Some sort of training--mother's helps are all very well, but they
aren't of much help if you are a career girl at heart."

Deborah, who had had no idea that he thought of e less agreed because
it seemed to her that he expected it.

She said with tremendous enthusiasm, "Shorthand and typing and
something called word processing--1 thought I'd take a course; I've
some money saved."

"Splendid.  Where do you intend to go?"

Since she had only just thought of it, she had no idea but she said
briskly, "Oh, London, I think--if I work hard I can get a job straight
away."

Sir James had his doubts.  Somehow she didn't seem the right kind of
person to sit at a desk all day; he wasn't even sure if she would ever
master the skills she spoke of so airily.  However, she had to have her
chance of seeing more of life.  He observed blandly that she seemed to
have her future very well organised and there was no reason why she
shouldn't make a success of it.  A remark to which Deborah responded
with just the right amount of enthusiasm while her heart, never far
from her shoes, sank once more to their very-soles.

They all had coffee together and, now that her future was so
satisfactorily planned, it wasn't mentioned again.  He bade her goodbye
with a casual pleasantness which cut her to the heart and puzzled
Trotty.  Sir James had always been a deep one, she reflected, even as a
small boy, and why he didn't just pick up the girl and run off with her
and marry her was be yond her.

When he had gone she said, "You're sure that's t lonely place and
where will you live?"

"Well, I'll find a room near the place I take the course--there are
several advertised, you know, and if I work hard I should be able to
get a good job within a few months."

"Well you know best," conceded Trotty, not believing it, 'but you're to
let me know where you are, love, and promise me that if you're unhappy
or short of money you'll tell me at once.  "

"Of course I will," promised Deborah, her fingers crossed behind her
back.  She had a strong affection for Trotty but she had every
intention of disappearing once she had left the little cottage.  Sir
James expected her to make a new life for herself; after all, he had
called her a career girl, a rather glamorous type, she had always
thought, wearing beautifully cut suits and Italian shoes and with hair
which shone like gold lacquer.  She had no money for suits or shoes and
nothing on earth would turn her carroty hair into gold lacquer, but
there was no reason why, given reasonable luck, she couldn't work her
way up and become frightfully successful.  She was aware that this was
nonsense's even as she thought it, but she had to buoy up her.

flagging spirits.

Now she would have to put her words into actions; she answered several
advertisements for commercial schools and spent time comparing them.
Most of them held out promise of speedy perfection and high sal'd made
no reference to these, merely stated that once the course was finished
she might expect to find work as a shorthand typist.  Fees were payable
a month in advance and included the use of typewriters and word
processors and, for those who wished, a further course in the use of
the computer could be arranged.

There was just enough money to pay for a three- month course, although
it was suggested that a further three months was advisable, and
provided that she could find a room at a reasonable rent she felt
reasonably confident that she could afford it.  She would have to leave
after the first three months, of course, but if she could type by then
and have at least some idea of shorthand she could try for a job.  The
question of a room was difficult.  It didn't make sense to go to London
and spend a day looking for lodgings but nor on the other hand did she
relish the idea of arriving in town with no prospect of a bed.  It was
Trotty who came to her aid.  A friend, whom she hadn't seen for a
couple of years but to whom she still wrote, had been recently widowed.
She lived, most fortunately, a bus ride away from the commercial
school where Deborah was enrolled, and Trotty was sure that she would
be glad to rent a room to Deborah.

"She's a nice enough woman, mind you" said Trotty, 'but from what I
gather from her letters she's let herself go--spends a lot of time at
bingo and , though, and have a look round.  "

She wasn't at all happy about Deborah going to London; she had been so
sure that Sir James had fallen in love at last and that he and Deborah
would marry but now it seemed as though she had been mis taken.  They
couldn't have quarrelled, for they were never alone together; indeed he
hadn't been near the cottage for ten days or more.  The doubt that some
glamorous creature had caught his attention in London became almost a
certainty despite the fact that she found it hard to believe.

She did the best she could, though, and when Deborah was ready to leave
saw that she had a covered basket with the wholesome food she felt sure
was unobtainable in London.  The basket was awkward to carry but
Deborah thanked her and hugged her and promised to write in a cheerful
voice which success fully hid her panic.

Sitting in the train, she had never felt so lonely.  She would have
felt less so if she could have heard Trotty on the phone to Sir James,
giving every last detail of her departure, explaining about the room
rented from an old friend and the rosy prospects of an office job in a
few months' time.  If Trotty had hoped for some inkling of his
feelings, Sir James had no intention of revealing them.  He thanked her
for the information, expressed the hope that Deborah would make a good
start in her new career, and rang off.

The address Miss Trott had given him was in the vicinity of London
Bridge and he withstood a strong temptation to go and look at it.  It
wasn't a neighbourhood he would have chosen to live in and the idea of
Deborah being there, away from the country and the fresh air, rankled.
He had made the decision to keep away from her and give her a chance to
do something with her life so he ignored the promptings of his heart
and applied himself to his work, and when he received an urgent request
to attend the bedside of an elderly patient holidaying on one of the
more're mote Greek islands, he accepted it.  Trotty, when he phoned
her, was upset, but she was too wise to say so; she said merely that
she hoped he wouldn't be away too long and waited for him to ask about
Deborah.  Which he did in a casual manner which didn't deceive her in
the least.

"I had a long letter from her; she seems to have settled down very
nicely, says it's hard work but seems to like it."  '"

"Splendid," said Sir James in a bland voice which gave nothing away

Deborah's'letters to Trotty were cheerful, chatty and presented a
picture to the reader of a contented life which, while not completely
untrue, was certainly not an accurate picture.  The comfortable room
she described with such detail was in fact a back bedroom in Trotty's
friend's house, one in a terrace of rather downtrodden houses, grimed
by pollution from the a small stretch of back garden, untended and
littered with stray bits of rubbish and dirty papers, and the comfort
of the room left much to be desired.  True, the bed was comfortable
enough, but the dressing-table, minus a castor, was wedged against a
wall, a wad of newspaper under one leg, and the wardrobe door had a
tendency to fly open for no reason at all.  The room was clean, though,
and the bed linen clean too, and Deborah had the use of the front room
downstairs if she so wished.  Mrs.  Squires was a friendly soul, no
longer even middle-aged, so she might be excused from doing more than
keeping the house tidy, something which she did only occasionally.  She
was extremely good-natured and full of good intentions and liked to
chat about her friend Miss Trott.  It surprised Deborah that they had
been friends for two people more unlike each other she had yet to
meet.

Mrs.  Squires was a late riser so Deborah-got up early and arranged her
own breakfast before taking the bus to her classes.  She went with the
other students to a nearby cafe for a roll and butter and a pot of tea
at midday and in the evening Mrs.  Squires cooked for them both.  She
had been, she told Deborah, a good cook in her day but now she tended
to open tins and defrost fast food, but Deborah, tired after her day's
studies, would have eaten anything put before her and was grateful for
a hot meal.

Life after the tranquillity of Trotty's cottage n it, determined to
work hard and eventually get a worth while job.  All the same she was
lonely, for although the other students were friendly enough they
treated her with good-natured tolerance for she worked hard and since
she had no money to spare, never joined them on their evening jaunts to
the local pubs or cinema So her evenings were spent practising her
short hand, a skill she doubted she would ever master, and helping Mrs.
Squires clear away their supper and wash up.  She had been there for
only a few days when she discovered Mrs.  Squires' cat, a thin,
neglected beast who slunk into the kitchen in search of food.  Mrs.
Squires shooed it out, not unkindly but with no wish to be bothered
with it.

"Cats can look after them selves," she told Deborah.

"He was a pretty little kitten too, but he's a nuisance now.  I'll have
to get rid of him."

"Would you mind if I had him?"  asked Deborah.

"I'll pay forA is food and look after him and he'll be company for me
while I'm studying in the evenings in my room."

"Well, I don't know--I suppose so.

"Why not?  Just so long as he doesn't get under my feet."

"Has he a name?"

"Buster.  But he doesn't answer to it any more."

Deborah looked at the grubby little beast, waiting so patiently for any
scraps, and wondered when any one had last called him by name, let
alone spoken to e corner shop run by a Pakistani family and open at
all hours, and bought cat food and tinned milk and a packet of little
crunchy biscuits she was assured all cats loved and bore them back to
Mrs.  Squires' house.  That lady had gone out to her bingo session so
that Deborah was free to feed Buster and, while he was gobbling his
supper, hunted for an old cardboard box.  She lined it with old
newspapers for lack of anything else and took it up to her room and
rather to her surprise Buster went with her, circled the room
cautiously and got into the box, where he sat giving himself a long
needed wash while she explored the possibilities of the window.  It had
a sill almost overhanging the narrow strip of roof over the back door;
there was no reason why he shouldn't go in and out without Mrs. 
Squires being bothered.  She left the window wide open and sat down at
the little card table by it and started on her shorthand.  Presently
Buster began to purr, a raucous sound, but then he was sadly out of
practice, for he had had nothing to purr about, but it was a homely
sound and Deborah paused to tell him so.

Mrs.  Squires would be late home and she went downstairs to make
herself a cup of tea and leave everything ready for her breakfast in
the morning.  Buster went with her and she let him out into the back
garden while she drank her tea and washed a cup.  He didn't come in
when she called and after a while she o get ready for bed, with the
intention of going to the back door again at the last moment--something
which wasn't necessary for there he was, sitting on the sill, washing
his whiskers, very much at home.

"Clever boy," said Deborah and offered him a snack meal before bedtime.
She got into bed presently with the window opened just wide enough for
him to creep in and out should he so wish but she need not have
bothered for no sooner was she settled in bed than he crept stealthily
on to the end of the bed and sat down on her feet.  She fell asleep to
the sound of his purr and taking great comfort from the warmth of his
meagre small body through the blankets.

Life wasn't quite so dull any more; she had Buster to feed and talk to
and he responded quickly enough to her gentle ways and quiet voice,
takin ga pride in his appearance once more, his small half-starved
frame filling out nipely.  As he kept out of Mrs.  Squires' way she
forgot about him, since he prudently went in and out via the window and
the roof.  Deborah wrote to Trotty, and told her about the cat and
enlarged her days' activities so that they sounded quite interesting.

Each time she wrote she longed to ask about Sir James but she didn't,
hoping that Trotty would write about him--though she never did.  Sir
James enquired from time to time if she heard from Deborah and she told
him what was in the letters , splendid," without meaning it.

"He always was an obstinate little boy," said Trotty to Maudie, 'and
why he can't go to her and tell her he wants her for his wife I don't
know.  " Trotty blew her nose loudly as an alternative to having a good
cry.

"I wish I had the dear child here, that I do."  Deborah had lost her
pink cheeks and the slight plumpness which Trotty's good food had given
her.  She was working hard and finding the shorthand difficult although
she had mastered the typewriter well, but she had no speed yet and no
means of practising between lessons.  As for the word processor, her
teacher, a forthright Cockney woman, made no bones about her doubts
about Deborah making a success of it.  Deborah had stayed behind to ask
some questions about her shorthand and the teacher stopped her as she
was going out of the class room.

"You're a hard worker, I'll give you that," she began 'but you're not
the type; there's girls straight from school going into good jobs after
several months here.  Most of them understand computers too.  " Deborah
put down her books and sat down at one of the desks.

"You mean I'll not get a job?"

"No, no, if you can speed up your typing and get the hang of the
shorthand you ought to get work as a receptionist or a copy typist, but
there's no future in that.

"I have to earn my living as soon as possible."

"Yes, well, let's see how you're doing in a couple of weeks' time."  A
conversation which she repeated to Buster that night, lying in bed,
unable to settle and sleep because the next door neighbours were hold
inga party with noisy abandon.  Buster, who didn't care for loud voices
or loud noises, had crept up close to her, draped over her shoulder and
peering into her face, purring gently.  She put out a hand and stroked
his head; now that he had a life to his liking he had turned into a bit
of a dandy, always beautifully groomed.  He had even taught himself to
purr in a soft rumble.  He was a great comfort to her because she had
no one else to talk to so she talked to him--about Maudie and Trotty
and Bellum and Uncle Oscar and Mrs.  Vernon and inevitably Sir James.

"If I could just see him, Buster, then perhaps I would be able to
forget him."

She worked harder than ever, for the exams she was to take in two
weeks' time were important, and if she failed them it would set her
back weeks and there wouldn't be enough money to stay longer at the
school.  Her nest-egg was very nearly exhausted but once she had got
her certificate she would take the first job she could find.  The exams
were much worse than she had expected; she thought it unlikely that
she had passed the shorthand test and she hadn't finished all the
typing n advised to drop since she was far too slow at it.  All the
same she went to bed that night feeling hopeful; a typing certificate
would be better than nothing.  The results were on the notice board
when she got to the school in the morning; she had failed both exams
Several others had failed too but they were young women who really had
not cared if they passed or not.  Now, they told her cheerfully, they
would go on the dole.

"You can too," they told her helpfully, 'you just sign on--if there's a
job going you go and look at it and if you don't like it you say so.  "
They all had families and homes to go to, and Social Security money was
pocket money to them... She thanked heaven that she had paid Mrs.
Squires her rent in advance;

at least she had four or five days in which to look for work of some
sort.

She went back to the shoddy little house and found it surprisingly
silent.  Mrs.  Squires seldom went out in the morning but there was no
sign of her now.  Deborah went to her room and found Buster fast asleep
in his box.  She supposed that there was no time like the present in
which to start looking for a job, so she closed her door quietly and
crossed the small landing to the stairs and then stopped to listen.

Mrs.  Squires' door was closed but the sounds coming from behind it
sounded very peculiar: great shuddering snorting sounds and then
silences and then the snores again.

Deborah had never been in Mrs.  Squires' bedroom, indeed the only room
she used in the house other than her own was the kitchen, and she
hesitated for a moment before tapping on the door; Mrs.  Squires was a
kind landlady but she had never encouraged anything more than a civil
exchange of trivial remarks about mundane topics between the pair of
them.  All the same, the sounds didn't seem quite normal.  She tapped
on the door again and no one answered although the snoring sounds
continued.  Hesitantly she went in.  Mrs.  Squires was lying on the
floor, alarmingly red in the face, her eyes half open and breathing in
a stertorous manner.

There was no telephone in the house.  Deborah ran to the corner shop
and dialled for an ambulance, ran back to the house again, covered Mrs.
Squires with a blanket, put a pillow under her head and found the large
nylon shopping bag her landlady used.  Into it she stuffed whatever
Mrs. Squires was likely to need "^ " in hospital, then went back to her
own room to make sure that Buster was still asleep, had food and could
get out if he wanted to.

It only remained for her to get her jacket, find her handbag and shut
the windows and lock the back door then wait for the ambulance.  It
came with commendable speed and the men were kind and gentle with Mrs.
Squires and wasted no time.  There were no beds at the nearest
hospital, they told Deborah, but the patient would have to be admitted
 g teaching hospitals and was she coming with them?

She watched them load the stretcher, locked the front door and got in
with one of the men and Mrs.  Squires.  Rattling through the streets,
blue lights flashing, siren wailing, she reflected that, so far, it
hadn't been her day.  Nor, for that matter, she hastened to add
guiltily, had it been for poor Mrs.  Squires.

It was quite a lengthy journey across the city and even with the siren
going it was difficult to keep up any speed.

"Will she be all right?"

asked Deborah, watching the paramedic using his skill on Mrs.
Squires.

He shrugged, "Can't say, miss.  It's a stroke and a massive one.  We'll
have to wait and see what they say."

She followed the stretcher into casualty and went obediently to the
reception desk to answer the receptionist's questions and then sit down
in a corner near the curtained cubicle where Mrs.  Squires had been
taken.  There was a lot of coming and going, the place was crowded with
patients and it was five minutes or more before a young doctor arrived,
to be joined presently by an older man.  Presently the nurse there
hurried out, bent on some errand, and disappeared into the throng.
Deborah looked at the clock, not really registering the time, wrapped
in a bad dream and not capable of any sensible thought.  She had done
everything that was possible and now she wasn't sure what r landlady
had any family; she had told the receptionist who had asked her to try
and find out and let her know as soon as possible, but for the moment
she thought she had better stay where she was.

The nurse came hurrying back and disappeared be hind the curtains again
and Deborah watched the people round her.  It must be very interesting
life, she thought, working in a hospital, but you needed to have A
levels and to be able to pass exams.  She looked away from the people
waiting near her and watched one of the sisters coming towards her.
Someone was there with her--Sir James.

He saw her as they drew level but he didn't pause in his stride, was
ushered behind the curtains by the sister and it was a long time before
he came out, this time with both the doctors and the sister hovering.

Deborah thought for one glorious moment that he was going to stop and
speak to her, but even as he paused he was lifting the phone from the
pocket of his long white coat and listening intently and, with a word
to the older of the two doctors, going away She would have felt better
about it if she could have heard his abrupt, "Who came with this
lady?"

"No relation--the woman who lodges with her.  Doesn't know much about
her, unfortunately."

Sir James was halfway to the lifts going fast.

"Get someone to ask her to wait.  I'll see her presently."  He y
concentrated upon his next patient.

There was a delay before Mrs.  Squires could be warded but Deborah
didn't like to leave until she had been admitted to the women's medical
where a busy ward sister spared a moment to explain that Mrs.  Squires
was very ill and that Deborah should tele phone later that evening. 
She frowned when Deborah explained that she wasn't a relation and
indeed had no idea if there was one.

"I'll ask the neighbours and if I hear of one I'll telephone you
shall

I?

"

She went to look at Mrs.  Squires before she left the ward, lying so
quietly in her bed, and, since the nurses were so busy, unpacked the
things she had brought and put them in the locker by the bed.  It was
on her way out that the receptionist called her over.

"There is a message for you from Sir James Marlow; you're to wait here,
he wants to see you."

Deborah thanked her politely and walked out of the door before anyone
could stop her.  It had been bad enough seeing him so unexpectedly and
it had been even worse being looked at as though she wasn't there.  She
never wanted to see him again.  By the time she had reached the bus
stop she was in a towering rage, which was a good thing, for it
prevented her from thinking of all the awful things which had happened
that day.

CHAPTER NINE

it was some time after Deborah had left Casualty before Sir James
returned.  The place was still busy but the receptionist had been on
the lookout for him.

"I gave the young lady your message, sir," she said, 'but she went away
without a word.  " She was dying of curiosity and would have put a
leading question but the look on his face stopped her.

"He is always so polite and with beautiful manners as you know," she
said later, 'but he looked at me as though he could have wrung my neck.
It wasn't my fault the girl went, was it?  "

The receptionist taking over from her agreed and expressed the hope
that he wouldn't come back while she was on duty, "M^nd you I've always
fancied him--that lovely car of his and he's rich--he must be..."

^ .  " Sir James stifled an urge to leave the hospital at once and go
after Deborah and went back to the women's medical and cast an eye over
Mrs.  Squires, who despite his efforts was dying.  All the same he
intensified his fight for her life until there was no longer any need,
then, leaving matters with his registrar, he got e terraced house near
London Bridge.

The appearance of a gleaming Bentley caused something of a stir in the
street but Deborah didn't hear it.  The house had been cold and
depressingly empty when she had got back, and since it was midafternoon
by now she had put the kettle on, fed Buster and made herself a cup of
tea before going to the corner shop to make enquiries about Mrs.
Squires' family.  There was a brother, she was told, living on his own
somewhere in Shoreditch, by the name of Whitmore, and if she knocked
next door they might know his address.

It was surprising how helpful everyone was.  Several neighbours
volunteered information and the young man who lived in the end terrace
house offered to get on to his motorbike and fetch Mr.  Whitmore; the
rush-hour hadn't started and he'd have him at Mrs.  Squires' in no time
at all.

Deborah thanked everyone and went back to the house and started to put
Mrs.  Squires' bedroom to rights.  She had no idea what would happen
next but it seemed a good idea to make up the bed with clean linen and
fill the washing machine.  She Hoovered and dusted until a good deal of
commotion in the street sent her to the door to find that the young man
was back with Mr.  Whitmore hanging on rather frantically to the
pillion.  He was a small thin man with a sad moustache and watery eyes
and he accepted her offer e told him what had happened.

"I'd better go along to the hospital," he said doubt fully.

"There's no one else left but me.  What's to hap pen to her?"

"I don't know," said Deborah gently.

"She'll be kept there until she's much better and then perhaps she
could go into a sheltered flat or something similar?  This house is
hers?"

"Yes, her hubby left it to her.  I'm to have it when she goes."  He
finished his tea while she explained that she was only lodging there
and would be leaving at the end of the week.

"So the house will be empty, but I'll leave the keys and see it's clean
and tidy."  His face brightened at that.

"Well, I suppose there's not much to stop me moving in--kind of keep
the place going until she comes home."  He got to his feet.

"I'll be off, then, and come in the morning so's we can sort things out
a bit."

After he had gone Deborah washed the cups once more and tackled the
kitchen.  Mrs.  Squires hadn't been a good housewife, or perhaps she
had just lost interest living on her own--the kitchen needed to be
thoroughly turned out and she was glad to have worthwhile things to do.
However hard she worked, she couldn't stop her thoughts.  A brisk
tattoo on the door knocker brought her head out of the kitchen cup
board; a neighbour probably with an offer of supper;

 p offered to her.  She didn't bother to take off the apron of Mrs.
Squires's that she had on; everyone knew she was seeing to the
housework and besides almost all the women in the street wore an apron
for a good deal of their day.

She opened the door and Sir James walked in and to her utter dismay she
burst into tears at the sight of him and his vast reassuring person and
flung herself on to his waistcoat.

He said nothing, but let her cry, and presently when her snivelling
gave way to heaving sobs he took one arm from her and offered her a
beautifully laundered handkerchief.

She wriggled free then, mopped her face and blew her nose resolutely.

"I'm so sorry."  Her voice was still thick with tears.

"But it's been a simply beastly day."

He stood in the little hall, watching her and said presently, "Why did
you not wait, Deborah?"

She glared at him and gave a defiant sniff.

"You looked at me as though--as though..."  Words failed her and she
tried again.

"Whenever we meet I'm in trouble and it's always you there and you must
be so tired of helping me..."  She drew a breath, aware that she hadn't
explained very well.

"I've tried, I really have, to keep out of your way."  She suddenly
rem em t say any more in case she started to cry again.

Sir James, it seemed, had nothing to say; presently she asked, "Is Mrs.
Squires going to be all right?"

"She died shortly after she was warded.  There was almost nothing to be
done, I'm afraid."

Deborah said in a small voice, "She was very kind, you know.  Trotty
will be sad..."

"What else has gone wrong with your day?"  asked Sir James in a voice
to charm the birds off the trees.

She hadn't meant to tell him, but it came tumbling out.

"I failed my exams--I was taking shorthand and typing, you know, and I
thought if I passed the exams at the end of the course I could get a
job and move somewhere else and start a career."

Anyone looking less like a career girl would be hard to find, thought
Sir James with tender amusement hair on end, a grubby apron, a small
red nose and puffy eyes from crying.  He said in a kind voice, "Well,
you can consider that in th morning You will come home with me now, "
Home with you?  Indeed I won't.  I'm cleaning the house and besides, I
can't leave Buster.  " He raised his eyebrows and she explained about
Buster.

"The very idea..."  she finished, reminding herself that the quicker he
went away, really away and out of her life, the better.

Sir James utilised his impressive bedside manner, kind and considerate
but beneath his calm a rock-hard l do as I say, Deborah.  Go upstairs
and pack a bag for the night and find the cat.  I will bring you back
in the morning but you are not to sleep here alone tonight.  " She
opened her mouth ready to utter a defiant, " I won't," but caught his
eye and thought better of it.  She backed towards the stairs.

"Well, all right, but Mr.  Whitmore is coming in the morning--Mrs.
Squires' brother, he's gone to the hospital..."

"You will be here when he arrives so that you can make whatever
arrangements are necessary."

She packed a small case and bore the sleeping Buster downstairs in his
box.  Sir James was standing where she had left him but the door and
windows were shut, all but the hall light out and the bucket of dirty
water by the cupboard emptied and set tidily in the sink.

He took her case from her, peered at Buster and opened the car door so
that she might put his box on the back seat.  Then he shut the door,
ushered her into the front of the car, told her to stay there and
knocked on the door of the next house.  There were faces peering from
several windows and the neighbour came' to the door with alacrity and
stood listening while Sir James talked.  Deborah had no idea what he
was saying but the neighbour nodded a great deal and smiled and then
waved to her before Sir James turned away and got into the car.  He
leaned over and fastened her seatbelt.

"Had your , " Lunch?  " and she muttered something and he said, " I'm
sure Mrs.  Dobbs, my housekeeper, will have something nice for us.  "

He smiled at her so kindly that she had to clench her teeth to keep
from cryingagain, indeed, once he had started the car and perforce
couldn't look at her, she allowed the tears to trickle soundlessly down
her cheeks.  It was dark anyway even though the streets were brightly
lighted and she turned her head and looked out of the window, not
caring where they were going.

Since it was on the other side of the city it took twenty minutes or so
and by then she was feeling much more herself.  Still looking out of
the window, she blew her nose, wiped her eyes and turned to look ahead
of her.

"Feeling better?"  asked Sir James cheerfully.

"There's nothing like a good cry."  He didn't look at her.

"We're almost there."  They were in more spacious streets now and
presently when he drove down a narrow side-street and stopped' before
his elegant house she said in an effort to be polite, "It's very nice
here..."  He agreed blandly, offering the information that it was handy
for his work.  He got out and opened her door and reached inside for
Buster in his box.  Buster was annoyed and a little frightened; Deborah
had tied a tea towel over his box to keep him safe and he did's and
followed him across the pavement and up the few steps to his front
door, opened as they reached it by Dobbs who wished his master a gloomy
"Good evening', and, being introduced to Deborah, inclined his head
with civil gravity, taking in every detail of her appearance as he did
so.

"Ask Mrs.  Dobbs to come here, will you Dobbs?

Miss Everett would like to tidy herself.  She will be staying the night
so get someone to see that there's a room ready, will you?  " His
glance fell on the box in her arms; the tea cloth was heaving
dangerously.

"We have got a cat with us--Deborah, what do you think would be the
best thing to do with Buster?"

"If you wouldn't mind having him for just a few minutes while I do my
hair... he could stay in his box... he's used to me and I think he'll
stay quiet once I sit down."  She added, "But where's Bellum?"

"Asleep?"  Sir James looked at Dobbs.

"In the garden, sir."

"Right--let him in, will you?"  He cast an eye over Deborah.

"Run along--I'll look after Buster."

Doing the best she could with her tearstained face and untidy head,
Deborah had to admit that it was comforting to have someone telling her
what to do, arranging this for her.  She powdered her nose lavishly and
redid her hair and wished with all her heart that she were beautiful
and that soon Sir James would take one look at her and fall deeply in
love.

Which, if she did but know it, was exactly what he did do as she came
back into the hall; at least he had always thought her beautiful and he
fell rather more deeply in love at the sight of her, hesitating by the
cloakroom door.

"Over here."  He opened the door wide and she went past him into his
sitting-room.  It was a delightful place, cosily furnished with
comfortable chairs and a huge sofa before the fire and behind it a
lovely Pembroke table.  There were lamps on the small tables and a
Georgian breakfront bookcase in mahogany against one wall.  Buster was
sitting on top of it and Bellum was sitting in front of the fire,
wagging his tail.

"Oh--is he safe?"

"I told Bellum to sit--he's an obedient dog, besides he is used to Mrs.
Dobbs' cat and Trotty's Maudie.  Come and sit down.  Will you have a
drink?  A glass of sherry?"

He put the glass on a small tripod table by her chair and went to sit
down opposite -her, a glass of whisky at his elbow.

"How long' have you been with Mrs.  Squires?  A friend of Trotty's, you
said?"

Deborah, unaware that he was perfectly aware of how long she had been
there--had in fact, received news of her from Trotty--explained.  She
didn't do it very well; the sherry was going to her head, she was tired
and sad, and mixed in with all these feelings's sitting there, only
yards away, so near and yet so very far.  She came to a stumbling halt
and he observed mildly that for the moment her circumstances were
unfortunate, but that something was bound to turn up.

She was saved from answering this by Dobbs, coming to tell them that
Mrs.  Dobbs had dinner ready if Sir James was agreeable.

At the door Deborah turned to look at Buster.

"You don't mind my leaving him there?  Bellum won't hurt him and he
might break something..."

"We will leave them to get used to the sight of each other," said Sir
James and ushered her across the hall into the dining-room.  Dobbs had
always prided himself on his elegant table arrangements even when his
master was alone; now he had laid a lace-edged cloth with silver and
crystal and the Worcester china he cherished for a dinner party and he
had placed a bowl of pink roses and mint leaves at the centre.  He
looked as gloomy as ever but in the kitchen he had informed his wife
that he could smell romance in the air, and was gratified to hear her
agree.

"A nice young lady, very quiet, I thought, and lovely eyes."  Deborah
realised as they sat down that she was famished;

breakfast had been early and sketchy be cause she had wanted to get to
the school in good time for the results, lunch had been forgotten
entirely although she had made a cup of tea.  Mrs.  Dobbs' mfresh
asparagus and not out of a tin, and with a little thin cream stirred in
at the last moment, was the best thing she had tasted for a long time,
or so she thought until the duckling with an orange and honey sauce
came, and that was followed by a fruit tart so light that the pastry
melted in one's mouth.  She drank the wine she was offered, prudently
refusinga second glass before they went back to the sitting-room, where
Dobbs had put the coffee tray.  Halfway to the hearth she stopped.

"Buster--he's gone?"

Sir James put a reassuring hand on her arm.

"Look," he advised her.

Buster and Bellum were sitting side by side, not looking at each other,
staring into the fire, but presently when Deborah was sitting in a
chair again Buster crept up on to her lap where he stayed until, after
an hour's desultory talk which never once touched on Deborah's
situation, Sir James suggested that she might like arh early night;
"You must be tired and I'm afraid that we must leave quite early
tomorrow morning--I have a clinic at half-past eight and I want to
drive you back to Mrs.  Squires' house first."

"I'll catch a bus..."

His eye fell on Buster, sitting so quietly on her lap in a guarded way.
Sir James said mildly, "I don't think Buster would like that.  We will
leave at half-past seven--breakfast at seven; someone will call you in
good time."

She was tired and so dispirited with impossible ideas as to where she
would go or what she would do flitting through her head that she said
meekly, "Very well.  Sir James," and then, "What shall I do with
Buster?"

"He may accompany you if you wish.  Your room has an enclosed balcony
and Dobbs will have arranged things."

She got to her feet with Buster under one arm.

"You think of everything.  Thank you very much for my dinner--and
letting me sleep here."

He had got up too and went to open the door for her.

"Sleep well, Deborah," was all he said.

She slept like the proverbial log and so did Buster, who ate his
breakfast on the balcony while she went downstairs to eat hers with Sir
James.  They had it in a small, very cosy room behind the dining-room
and since there wasn't much time their conversation was no more than
requests to pass the toast or the coffee pot.  He had said half-past
seven and they left exactly then, driving through the still fairly
empty streets.  There was no hanging about once they reached Mrs.
Squires' house.  He took the house key from her, opened the door, took
a quick look round and carried her case indoors.

"Thank you very much," said Deborah, 'and do go quickly or you'll be
late.  Drive carefully, won't you?  " She put a hand on his.

"Goodbye."

He took her hand and didn't let it go.

"You will e soon after six o'clock."  She tugged at her hand, and felt
his clasp tighten.

"Why?"

"What a girl you are for asking questions when I have no time to answer
them.  I am driving you down to Trotty, of course.

You'll stay there until we have considered your future.  " When she
opened her mouth to protest, he said, " No, don't argue, I haven't the
time.  " He smiled suddenly.

"Be a dear girl and do just as I ask."

"Buster...?"

"Naturally Buster will accompany you."  He got into the car and drove
off with a casual wave.  No one had ever told him to drive carefully
before; it had sounded very wifelike and she had looked endearingly
anxious.  He was going to be late at his consulting-rooms but Alice
would see that his first patient was well taken care of.  As soon as he
started to drive he began to map out his day.  It was going to be a
busy one--it would be late by the time he got back from Trotty's
cottage that night and the following morning he was agoing to be even
busier. He got out of his car in Harley Street and went up the stairs
to his consulting- rooms, the mantle of his profession already on his
broad shoulders.

It was still early morning when Deborah closed the door of Mrs.
Squires' house, donned the apron once more, released Buster from his
box and boiled a kettle g to do and Mr.  Whitmore would probably want
coffee when he came.  She filled her bucket and finished cleaning out
the kitchen cupboard before giving the sink a good scrub.  There was
the bed linen from her bed to wash too; she hung the first lot on the
line in the narrow back garden and stripped her bed, set the machine
going and turned her attention to the sitting- room.  The house and its
furniture began to gleam with soap and polish.  By the time Mr. 
Whitmore arrived, another lot of washing was out to dry and she had put
coffee and sugar on the clean kitchen table with two mugs.  All this
time she had been constantly interrupted by the neighbours, calling to
see if they could help and glean any news.  Mr.  Whitmore had smartened
himself up, explaining his best suit by telling her that he had been to
see his sister's solicitor.

"To get things sorted out," he explained.  And it was quite all right
for him to move in whenever he liked; the house was his now.  He looked
round with a proprietorial air and then at Deborah

"I've cleaned the house and left everything just so," she told him.

"I'm being fetched by a friend this evening You won't mind if I stay
here until about six o'clock?"

He looked relieved; possibly, she reflected, he had expected her to ask
to stay until she could find some where else to go.

"Suits me," he told her.

"I've got my e time you go, can you leave the key with someone?"

"The neighbour will take it, I'm sure.  Would you like to go round the
house before you go?"

He agreed to that, looking askance at Buster, perched on top of the
wardrobe in her room.

"It's all right," said Deborah.

"Buster is going with me.  Mrs.  Squires gave him to me."

"Don't hold with cats," muttered Mr.  Whitmore, and presently he went
away.

She packed her things then, folded the clean washing watered the plants
and fed Buster before using up the last of the bread and a tin of beans
for her lunch.

She hung the pinny behind the door, washed her face and hands and did
her hair in its coil before wast inga lot of time on her face.  She
needed creams and lotions and the exact shade of powder and several
lipsticks before she could look even faintly pretty; she peered at her
reflection and decided that there was nothing more to be done.  She
might as well have some tea.  ^ She was going round the house, bolting
and locking doors and windows, when the Bentley came to a slow silent
halt before the door.

She stood at the bedroom window and watched Sir James get out without
haste and thump the knocker.  He was so quiet and so sure of himself
and so kind.  She stifled a sigh and went down to let him in.

"You're ready?  Wait a moment while I get a basket for Buster, he'll be
more comfortable than in that box."

He came back with a cat basket, a roomy one with one end covered in a
fine mesh so that the occupant could look out if he wished to.  Buster,
protesting hotly, was transferred and put on the back seat while she
took the key next door and made her goodbyes.  Sir James put the two
cases in the boot and opened her door, all with a kindly impersonal air
which she found daunting.

Perhaps he had had second thoughts, she mused worriedly, or he had had
to break some engagement for the evening in order to drive her to
Trotty.

They drove in silence for a few minutes before she ventured, "I hope I
haven't upset your plans..."

"No, no, in fact you have fallen in with them very nicely."  She
thought this over for a minute or two and could make nothing of it at
first, then she concluded that he had intended to visit Trotty
anyway.

The rush-hour was easinga little but it was still a slow business
crossing the city.  She sat quietly, not wishing to distract his
attention from the traffic around him.  At some traffic lights he
glanced at her.

"I'm driving carefully enough for you Deborah?"

"Oh, did you think that I thought you were a bad driver?  It wasn't
that at all--I wouldn't like you to get hurt..."

The lights changed and he drove on, his face impassive; only his eyes
gleamed under their lids.  Just for a moment he was tempted to call his
registrar and tell him that he wouldn't be at the hospital in the
morning; but he had waited so long, he reflected, that he
could--must--wait for one more day.  Alice could cancel his private
patients and book them in for the following day and he would have to
warn Dobbs.  Behind a placid face he rearranged his day so that he
would be free to drive down to Trotty's and talk to Deborah.  Where's
Bellum? " asked Deborah suddenly.

"At home.  I thought it might be rather more than Buster could stand,
imprisoned in a basket with a dog breathing all over him."

"Oh, poor Bellum, did he hate being left behind?"

"Very much--but he knows I'll be back this evening"

Beyond asking her if she was comfortable he had little to say sad after
one or two tentative remarks she fell silent, supposing that he was
thinking about his patients.  Once clear of London and the suburbs,
trav ellingat the maximum speed along the motorway, the journey seemed
short, too short for Deborah, watching his large well-kept hands on the
wheel, wanting to look at his face but staring ahead of her instead. 
He hadn't told her how long she was to stay at Trotty's cottage; she
supposed for as long as it took her to get another job, something she
would deal with e reflected, life for the last few months had been a
series of jobs which somehow came to an end only to find him waiting
for her, so to speak.  Just his bad luck, she told herself briskly, and
remarked brightly that they were almost there.  Trotty welcomed them
warmly, accepted Buster in his basket and by now in a bad temper with a
calm briskness, and when Sir James, having unloaded the cases and
carried them upstairs, told her that he was going straight back to
town, said roundly that he was to sit down at the kitchen table
immediately and drink a cup of coffee.  Deborah was told to sit down
too as soon as she had released Buster into the scullery with all the
doors shut and a bowl of food for him to gobble.

"Peaky, that's just what you look, Deborah," declared Trotty.

"Fresh air and some good food, that's what you need.  You shall tell me
about Mrs.  Squires presently.  I must say that was a bit of a shock."
She stood over them while they drank their coffee and went to the door
with Sir James.  He got up unhurriedly, bade Deborah to stay where she
was and ^ do as Trotty told her, and went out to his car, and; Trotty
went with him.  She came back presently, looking smug, but Deborah was
thinking about Sir James and didn't notice.  He hadn't even said
goodbye; he certainly hadn't listened to her polite speech of thanks.
He had this awful habit of going away slid'd lost an arm or a leg. 
She looked at Trotty with an unhappy face.

"I'm no good at anything, Trotty, and he always turns up when things
have gone wrong and I'm being such an awful nuisance.  I'm not being
sorry for myself but I don't seem to be able to get away from him." 
She took a deep breath.

"But I will, I'll get another job as quickly as I can and save some
money and take a typing course again."

"Splendid," said Trotty bracingly, 'but first a couple of days here;

it's no good dashing off to the first job that's offered.  Besides, you
could do with a bit of feeding up.  And that cat of yours, a few
breaths of country air will do him good too.  "

"What about Maudie?"

"Bless you child, she'll soon have him in his place.  The kittens are
all away to good homes and it'll give her an interest in life, getting
him to toe the line."  Trotty took the' mugs to the sink.

"Up you go and wash your face and unpack and we'll have supper and then
bed for you."

Trotty's ^dndly tyranny was soothing and comforting Deborah did as she
was told and presently, nicely full of supper and warm from a hot bath,
she got into bed.  Her bedroom door left open so that Buster, should he
wish, could go downstairs to the scullery.  Trotty was a splendid
listener.  For most of the next day Deborah talked.  There was such a
lot to tell; Mrs.  Squires and the school and her work, failing her
exams the kindness of the neighbours and, although she tried not to
talk too much about Sir James, of course she did.

Trotty plied her with good food, good advice with common sense and
matter-of-fact suggestions for the future.  Another day or two, she was
told, and then she could go to Reading or Henley and find a good
agency.  At the end of the second day Deborah asked with careful
casualness if Sir James would be comingagain.

"Now, would I ask him something like that?"  Trotty wanted to know.

"And him so busy examining all those poor souls with their addled
brains, getting them better too I have no doubt."  She spoke rather
tartly; she wouldn't tell a lie unless she really had to and she was
pleased with the way she had got out of that one and had answered
Deborah without erring from the truth.

"What about going to Henley tomorrow?  It's a bit of a journey but you
might find it worth your while."  Deborah agreed in a bright voice and
presently took herself off to bed.

She woke early and since there was no point in lying in bed dreaming
about Sir James, she got into her dressing-gown, a dreary, colourless
garment entirely lacking glamour, stuck her feet into her equally dull
slippers and padded downstairs.  She would make a cup of tea and take
one to Trotty.  Sir James was sitting at the kitchen table, Bellum at
his feet, a pot of tea on the table before him, a mug in his hand.  He
looked up as she went in and got to his feet.  His, "Good morning,
Deborah," was uttered in a placid voice.

"James," said Deborah, quite forgetting herself.

"Oh, James, you've come."

She regretted the words the minute she had said them but they were out
now and she would have to make the best of it.

"What I mean is," she said care fully, 'that it's nice to see you.  "

"Oh, good.  Have a mug of tea.  I've taken one up to Trotty."

"You haven't been here all night?"

"No, no, I got here about an hour ago."  He pulled a chair from the
table.

"Sit down do--there, with the table between us.  Bellum, sit."

Bellum, overjoyed at the sight of Deborah, sat, and Sir James poured
the tea, offered her milk and sugar and then resumed his Seat, his
conversation apparently exhausted.

For something to say Deborah embarked on the rather disjointed
information that she was going into Henley to find a job.  Sir James
put down his mug.

"No, you're not."  He smiled at her.

"You're coming to the cottage with me."

She put her mug down too because her hands were shaking so.

"You have been very kind, Sir James, but I am going to Henley..."

"I suppose it's your hair which makes you so pig headed.  I am taking
you to the cottage.  Do you want to know why?"

She tossed a fiery tress of hair over her shoulder and looked him in
the eye.

"Yes."

"I am going to ask you to marry me, Deborah, and for some reason I want
to do it in my own home, preferably in the garden with no one looking
on."

He leaned forward and took the mug from her and took her hand and
kissed her palm.

"I have given you every opportunity of leading your own life but now my
patience is quite exhausted.  In any case I can see that the only
career in which you will be successful is as my wife, making sure that
I drive carefully and am never late for work and welcoming me back home
each evening preferably with a clutch of children."

"But I'm not suitable..."

"My dearest love, what is all this nonsense about being suitable?  I'm
in love with you--have been for a long time now--and I love you..."

"Oh, is there a difference?"

"Indeed there is."

"Well, if you don't mind my not being suitable, I would very much like
to marry you.  I love you too."

Sir James got up and went round the table and pulled her gently to her
feet.  He held her so close that her ribs ached.

"This is by way of be inga dress rehearsal he told her, 'but it will do
for a start."

He began to kiss her then, very thoroughly and at some e marry very
soon, just as soon as I can get a licence?  I shall have to go back to
London this evening but you will stay at the cottage until I come
again.  " He kissed her once more.

"Now go and put on some clothes and throw away that blanket thing
you're wearing."

She reached up to put her arms around his neck.

"I can't do that.  I haven't another one."

"Easily remedied.  We'll buy one for every day of the week."  She
kissed him and Trotty came into the kitchen, as neat as a new pin.

"Bacon and eggs for breakfast," she said briskly.

"Put some clothes on, love."

Sir James still held Deborah close.

"We're going to be married, Trotty."

"And high time too," said Trotty, as she reached for the frying-pan.

"I shall buy a new hat..."

"As many hats as you like, Trotty," said Sir James.  He smiled down at
Deborah, kissed the top of her head very gently and gave her a little
push towards the door.

"My beautiful girl," he.  said very softly into her ear.

Deborah smiled.  It was an extraordinary thing, but she actually felt
beautiful.