of money selling flowers and fruit for the local Red Cross. Now she was
trying to coax her husband to take one of the glebe fields on a long
lease in order to start a hamper trade in fruit, vegetables and flowers.
Dolly, the one of her three step-daughters whom she liked least, was fond
of gardening, in a dull plodding way, and might be trained to such work.

But try though she did to forget Godfrey Radmore, her mind swung
ceaselessly back to the man with whom she had just had that curious talk
on the telephone. She was sorry--not glad as a more worldly woman would
have been--that Godfrey Radmore was coming back into their life.




CHAPTER II


While Janet Tosswill was thinking so intently of Godfrey Radmore, he
himself was standing at the window of a big bedroom in one of those
musty, expensive, old-fashioned hotels, which, perhaps because they are
within a stone's throw of Piccadilly, still have faithful patrons all the
year round, and are full to bursting during the London Season. As to
Radmore, he had chosen it because it was the place where the grandfather
who had brought him up always stayed when he, Godfrey, was a little boy.

Tall, well-built after the loose-limbed English fashion, and with a dark,
intelligent, rather grim cast of face, Radmore looked older than his age,
which was thirty-two. Yet, for all that, there was an air of power and of
reserved strength about him that set him apart from his fellows, and a
casual observer would have believed him cold, and perhaps a thought