I reasoned that they believed that Sir Ralph had given up his wild life. He was far too old to pursue it; and, remembering him on that night when he had come to Lady Bodrean's room, I could well believe it. All the same I did think it rather strange that Dorcas and Alison had so willingly allowed me to go into the lecher's lair.

Now they wanted a detailed account of the ball.

"A dress!" they had cried. "What a charming idea."

A further surprise because I had believed that one of the tenets of society was that young ladies did not accept dresses from a gentleman.

This was different. Theodosia had made it so. I had come to the conclusion that Sir Ralph liked me. I amused him in some way, which Theodosia had failed to do.

I was content to have been to the ball and to have enjoyed it. Had I not been presented with the dress I could never have gone.

It was so much easier to accept the cozy outlook I found at Rainbow Cottage rather than to probe the motives of Sir Ralph. For all his faults he was a kindly man. The servants certainly liked him better than they did his wife. As for myself, I felt fully competent to deal with any situation which might arise. I was fortunate in having Rainbow Cottage so close that I could run straight out of Keverall Court to it, if need be.

So I told them all about the ball. Dorcas was very interested in the food, Alison in the flower arrangements; and both of them much more interested in what had happened to me.

I danced the waltz round the tiny sitting room in Rainbow Cottage, knocking over the what-not which resulted in two casualties—the handle of one of Dorcas's little Goss china cups and a finger chipped on her eighteenth-century flower girl.

They were rueful but happy to see me happier; so they made light of the breakages. The cup handle would stick and the finger wouldn't be noticed. And with whom had I danced?

"Tybalt Travers! He's a strange man. Emily's sister who works there says both he and his father give her the creeps."

"Creeps!" I said. "The servants there are creep mad!"

"It's a queer sort of house and a strange profession, I think," said Dorcas. "Fiddling about with things that people handled years and years ago."

"Oh, Dorcas, you're talking like some country bumpkin."

"I know you're very interested in it. And I must say some of the pictures in those books you used to bring here would have given me nightmares. I used to wonder whether we ought to take them away."

"What pictures!"

"Skulls and bones . . . and I think those mummies are horrible things. And Sir Edward . . ."

"Well, what of Sir Edward?"

"I know he's very well known and very highly thought of but they say he's a bit peculiar."

"Just because he's different from themselves . . . just because he doesn't go around seducing all the village maidens like Sir Ralph did ... they think that's odd!"

"Really, Judith, where do you learn such things?"

"From life, Alison dear. Life all around me."

"You get so vehement every time these Traverses are mentioned."

"Well, they're doing this wonderful job . . ."

"I do believe you'd like to be out there with them fiddling about with all these dead mummies!"

"I could imagine nothing I should like more. It would be a little different from dancing attendance on the most disagreeable woman in the world."

"Poor Judith, perhaps it won't last forever. Do you know I think we might manage here. There's quite a big garden. We might grow vegetables and sell them."

I grimaced at my hands. "I don't think I have the necessary green fingers."

"Well, who knows, something may turn up. That young man who used to teach you. He was at the ball, wasn't he?"

"You mean Evan Callum."

"I always liked him. There was something gentle about him. You used to talk about him a great deal. You were better at his lessons than any of the others."

I smiled at them benignly. They had made up their minds that marriage would solve my problems. I had failed to bring it off with Oliver Shrimpton so they had chosen Evan Callum as the next candidate.

"I daresay he will be coming down here again. All this interest about the expedition . . ."

"Why doesn't he give people the creeps?" I demanded. "His profession is the same as Sir Edward's and Tybalt's."

"He's more . . . normal."

"You're not suggesting that the Traverses are not normal!"

"They're different," said Dorcas. "Oh yes, Mr. Callum will be here again. Sir Ralph, they say, is involved in this Egyptian matter. I heard that he's helping to finance it because his daughter is going to marry Tybalt Travers."

"Where did you hear that?" I asked.

"Through Emily."

"Servants' gossip."

"My dear Judith, who knows more about a family's affairs than the servants?"

They were right of course. The servants would hear scraps of conversation. I pictured Jane with her ear to the keyhole. Some of them pieced together torn-up letters which had been thrown into wastepaper baskets. They had their ears and eyes open for household scandals.

There was no doubt that the general expectation was that Tybalt was destined for Theodosia.

I went back to Keverall Court thoughtfully.

He doesn't love her, I told myself. I should know if he did. He enjoyed dancing with me at the ball far more than with Theodosia. How could a man like Tybalt be in love with Theodosia!

But Theodosia was rich—a great heiress. With a fortune in his hands such as Theodosia could bring him, Tybalt would be able to finance his own expeditions.

To Sir Edward very little mattered but his work and Tybalt was following very close in his footsteps.

This was why the servants in the house had the "creeps."

On the day Tybalt married Theodosia I would go away. I would find a post as far as possible from St. Erno's and I would try to build a new life out of the ruins of my old one. He might be obsessed by his work; I was by him; and I knew, as surely as I knew anything that when I lost him all the savor would go from my life.

Dorcas had said: "When Judith is enthusiastic about something her whole heart's in it. She never does anything by halves."

She was right; and now I was enthusiastic as I had never been in my life before—enthusiastic for one man, one way of life.

Theodosia, as though to make up for her neglect, sought me out a good deal. She liked to talk about the books she was reading and I could see she was making a great effort to perfect herself in the subject of archaeology.

She would invite me to her room and it often seemed as though she were on the verge of confidences. She was a little absent-minded; sometimes she would seem very happy, at others apprehensive. Once when I was in her room she pulled open a drawer and I saw a bundle of letters tied up with blue ribbon. How like Theodosia to tie up her love letters with blue ribbon! I wondered what was in them. Somehow I could not imagine Tybalt's writing love letters—and to Theodosia!

Dearest Theodosia,

I long for the day when we shall be married. I am planning several expeditions and these need financial backing. How useful your fortune will be ...

I laughed at myself. I was trying to convince myself that the only thing he would want from Theodosia was her fortune. And even if he did, as if he would write such a letter!

"How is Mamma behaving these days?" she asked me idly one afternoon when she had invited me to her room.

"Very much as usual."

"I expect she has been even worse since the ball."

"Your expectations are correct."

"Poor Judith!"

"Oh, we all have our problems."

"Yes," she sighed.

"Surely not you, Theodosia?"

She hesitated. Then she said, "Judith, have you ever been in love?"

I felt myself starting to flush uncomfortably but fortunately it was not meant to be a question so much as the preliminary to confidences.

"It's wonderful," she went on, "and yet . . . I'm a little scared."

"Why should you be scared?"

"Well, I'm not very clever, as you know."

"If he's in love with you . . ."

"If! Of course he is. He tells me so every time I see him . . . every time he writes . . ."

I half wanted to make an excuse to escape, half wanted to stay and be tortured.

"I really find archaeology rather boring, Judith. That's the truth, and of course it's his life. I've tried. I've read the books. I love it when they find something wonderful, but it's mostly about tools for digging and kinds of soil and so on and all those boring pots and things."

"If you're not interested perhaps you shouldn't pretend to be."

"I don't think he expects me to be. I shall just look after him. That's all he wants. Oh, it will be wonderful, Judith. But I'm worried about my father."

"Why should you be worried about him?"

"He won't like it."

"Won't like it! But I thought he was anxious for you to marry Tybalt."

"Tybalt! I'm not talking of Tybalt."

This was singing in my ears. It was like listening to some heavenly chorus. I cried: "What! Not Tybalt. You're joking!"

"Tybalt!" she cried. And she repeated his name with a sort of horror. "Tybalt! Why I'd be scared to death of him. I'm sure he thinks I am quite foolish."

"He's serious, of course, which is much more interesting than being stupidly frivolous."

"Evan is not frivolous."

"Evan! So it's Evan!"

"But of course it's Evan. Who else?"