we sat in the farm-house sitting-room, and sealed the agreement by a
friendly thrust of his nose as we said "Goodnight."

Anne did not look at me as she spoke, but her soft comment, "You are fond
of dogs," seemed to me a full acknowledgment of our recognition of each
other's quality.

I must admit, however, that at two o'clock in the morning one's sense of
values is not altogether normal.




III

FRANK JERVAISE


I should have preferred to maintain a thoughtful, experiencing silence
throughout our walk home. I had plenty of material for reflection. I
wanted, now, to look at all this disappearing Brenda business from a new
angle. I had a sense of the weaving of plots, and of the texture of them;
such a sense as I imagine a blind man may get through sensitive
finger-tips. Two new characters had come into my play, and I knew them
both for principals. That opening act without Brenda, Arthur Banks, or his
sister was nothing more than a prologue. The whole affair had begun again
to fascinate my interest. Moreover, I was becoming aware of a stern,
half-tragic background that had not yet come into proper focus.

And the circumstances of our walk home were of a kind that I find