"I did not understand that there was more than one," Lessingham
replied. "I simply wrote to The Hotel, Dreymarsh."

"There is only one hotel open, of course, Mr. Lessingham," Philippa
observed, turning towards him. "Why do you ask such an absurd
question, Henry? The 'Grand' is full of soldiers. Come and see
us whenever you feel inclined, Mr. Lessingham."

"I shall certainly take advantage of your permission, Lady Cranston,"
were the farewell words of this unusual visitor as he bowed himself
out.

Sir Henry moved to the sideboard and helped himself to a whisky and
soda. Philippa laid down her newspaper and watched him as though
waiting patiently for his return. Helen and Nora had already
obeyed the summons of the dressing bell.

"Henry, I want to hear your news," she insisted. He threw himself
into an easy-chair and turned over the contents of Philippa's
workbasket.

"Where's that tie of mine you were mending?" he asked. "Is it
finished yet?"

"It is upstairs somewhere," she replied. "No, I have not finished
it. Why do you ask? You have plenty, haven't you?"

"Drawers full," he admitted cheerfully. "Half of them I can never
wear, though. I like that black and white fellow. Your friend