She had been brought
up very much alone. Her mother was no companion for her, and the
brother nearest her own age and nearest her heart had been killed at
the opening of the war. Arthur and she were very good friends, but
not altogether congenial. She was rather afraid of him--of his
critical temper, and his abrupt intolerant way, with people or
opinions he disliked. Beryl was quite aware of his effect on Pamela
Mannering, and it made her anxious. For she saw little chance for
Pamela. Before the war, Arthur in London had been very much sought
after, in a world where women are generally good-looking, and
skilled besides in all the arts of pursuit. His standards were
ridiculously high. His women friends were many and of the best. Why
should he be attracted by anything so young and immature as Pamela?
* * * * *
At last! A pony-cart coming up from the lodge, with two figures in
it--Aubrey and Pamela. So poor Pam had at last got hold of something
in the nature of an animal!
Beryl gripped the balustrading which bordered one side of the path,
and stood watching intently--a slender creature, in a broad purple
hat, shading her small, distinguished face.
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