him at the moment when he needed it most. He _had_ somehow managed to
shut his teeth and play the man; and he _was_ the happier for it
already.

So his faith in the father who wouldn't have Mummy upset, had increased
ten-fold: and the letter he had nearly torn into little bits was
treasured, like a talisman, in his letter-case--Tara's parting gift.

* * * * *

It was on the Sunday of the frantic threats that he had wandered off
alone and discovered the little wood on the cliff in all its autumn
glory. It was a very ordinary wood of mixed trees with a group of tall
pines at one end. But for Roy any wood was a place of enchantment; and
this one had trees all leaning one way, with an air of crouching and
hurrying that made them seem almost alive; and the moment they closed on
him he was back in his old familiar world of fancy, where nothing that
happened in houses mattered at all....

Strolling on, careless and content, he had reached a gap where the trees
fell apart, framing blue deeps and distances of sea and sky. For some
reason they looked more blue, more beautiful so framed than seen from
the open shore; and there--sitting alone at the edge of all things, he
had felt strangely comforted; had resolved to keep his discovery a
profound secret; and to come there every Sunday for 'sanctuary'; to
think stories, or write poetry--a very private joy.

And this afternoon was the loveliest of all. If only the sheltering
leaves would not fall so fast!