During the train journey Hal kept his face well hidden behind a newspaper. It wasn’t that he was interested in its contents, for he had turned only one page in half an hour. Teddy glanced at him occasionally. Funny! Why was it? Grown people seemed to enjoy themselves by being sad.

The train halted in a quiet station. An old farmer with screwed-up, merry eyes, white whiskers like a horse-collar about his neck, and creaking leather gaiters, approached them.

“Mornin’, mister. I was on the lookout for ’ee. I’ve brought the wagonette; it’s waitin’ outside. Jump in, while I get the luggage.” When he came back carrying the bags, his eyes winked meaningly both together at Teddy: “The little missie, she war that excited, I could scarce persuade her from comin’.”

He lumbered to his seat and tugged at the reins. The horse whisked its tail and set off at a jog-trot through the sleepy town. Houses grew fewer; the country swam up, spreading out between trees like a green swollen river.

As they passed by gates and over bridges, it was as though doors flew open on stealthy stretches of distance where shadows crouched like fantastic cattle.

Hal was speaking. He turned to him. “I was saying that we rather tricked you, Vashti and I. What did you think of us? We often wondered.”

Teddy laughed. “I was little then. I was angry. You see, I believed everything; and she said so positively that we were going to be married. I must have been a queer kid to have believed a thing like that.”

The old horse jogged on, whisking his tail. The farmer sat hunched, with the reins sagging. Hal felt for his case and drew out a cigarette. As he stooped to light it, he asked casually, “Do you ever think about her—ever wonder what’s become of her?”

The boy flushed. It was Vashti, always Vashti, when Hal spoke to him.

“I think of her only as a faery story. It’s silly of me. I don’t think about her more often than I can help.”

“Than you can help!” Hal leant forward with a strained expression. “You can’t help. You always remember. That’s the curse of it. The doors of the past won’t keep shut; they slam and they slam. They wake you up in the night; you can’t rest. You’re always creeping down the stairs and finding yourself in the rooms of old memories. Would you know her again if you saw her?”

Teddy looked up at the question. “I’d know her voice anywhere.” Then, with an excitement which he could not fathom, “Am I going to——?”

Hal shook his head. “I asked you because, if you do see her, you must send me word.”

They turned in at a gate off the highroad. It was scarcely more than a field-track that they followed. Ahead a wood grew up, which they entered. On the other side of it, remote from everything, lay a red farmhouse. A big yard was in front of it, with stacks standing yellow in the sun and horses wandering aimlessly about. Cocks were crowing and on the thatch, like flakes of snow, white fan-tails fluttered. At the sound of wheels, an old lady, in a large sunbonnet, came out and shaded her eyes............