'Well, there it is. I suppose it's just Nature. If only I felt I needn't
trouble about Maurice, I should be perfectly content--'

'But you feel you must trouble about him?'

'Well--I don't know--' She even resented this much effort.

The evening passed slowly. Isabel looked at the clock. 'I say,' she said.
'It's nearly ten o'clock. Where can Maurice be? I'm sure they're all in
bed at the back. Excuse me a moment.'

She went out, returning almost immediately.

'It's all shut up and in darkness,' she said. 'I wonder where he is. He
must have gone out to the farm--'

Bertie looked at her.

'I suppose he'll come in,' he said.

'I suppose so,' she said. 'But it's unusual for him to be out now.'

'Would you like me to go out and see?'

'Well--if you wouldn't mind. I'd go, but--' She did not want to make the
physical effort.

Bertie put on an old overcoat and took a lantern. He went out from the
side door. He shrank from the wet and roaring night. Such weather had a
nervous effect on him: too much moisture everywhere made him feel almost