a feeling of relief; it would be something that he could contend with
and overcome, something that would go towards mitigating the galling
sense of impotence that chafed him. He felt the room suddenly stifling,
he wanted the cold sting of the rain against his face, the roar of the
wind in the trees above his head. Abruptly he buttoned his jacket in
preparation for departure. Miss Craven pulled herself together. She
laid a detaining hand on his arm. "Peter," she said slowly, "do you
think that Barry's trouble has any connection with--my brother? The
change of pictures in the dining-room--it was so strange. He said it
was a reparation. Do you think Barry--found out something in Japan?"

Peter shook his head. "God knows," he said gruffly. For a moment there
was silence, then with a sigh Miss Craven moved towards a bell.

"You'll stay for tea?"

"Thanks, no. I've got a man coming over, I'll have to go. Give my love
to Gillian and tell her I shall not, forgive her soon for deserting me
this morning. Has she lost that nasty cough yet?"

"Almost. I didn't want her to go to the Horringfords, but she promised
to be careful." Miss Craven paused, then:

"What did we do without Gillian, Peter?" she said with an odd little
laugh.

"'You've got me guessing,' as Atherton says. She's a witch, bless her!"
he replied, holding out his hands. Miss Craven took them and held them
for a moment.