Tiddy had ten minutes for reflection before she reached the Manor, and she made the most of it. All that was feminine in Miss Tiddle became ebullient. She simply effervesced with excitement and the consciousness that the game was not over, hardly begun in point of fact. Romeo cared and Juliet cared. Destiny had been beastly to them. Sir Nathaniel’s daughter snapped her fingers at destiny, and then extended them, placing her thumb to her tip-tilted nose.

“She cares; she must care; and so does he.”

Again we are unable to divine how Tiddy arrived at this unshakable conviction.

“I must butt in,” she thought. “Pushing is no good.”

Stimson ushered her into Lady Selina’s sitting-room.

Mother and daughter received her cordially. It was simply impossible not to like Tiddy, although you might criticise her. She possessed that incomparable gift of raising the temperature of any room she entered. All Lady Selma’s rooms were cool, even in the dog days, not yet arrived.

A superb engagement ring flashed upon Tiddy’s eyes.

She congratulated Cicely with effusion, upon the sound principle of telling a good lie if you are forced to do so. Lady Selina purred.

“Everybody is so kind. Such letters ...! And telegrams ...!”

“You like my ring, don’t you, Tiddy? Arthur sent it down from London yesterday. He wanted me to nip up with him, but I couldn’t leave mother, could I?”

“You could,” thought Tiddy, “if you were engaged to the One and Only.” Aloud she agreed graciously, “Of course not.”

“Any news, Tiddy? How are the V.A.D.s?”

“Clean bill of health. You heard about Agatha Farleigh?”

“No.”

“John Exton has been badly wounded—left arm amputated at the elbow.”

“Oh, Tiddy——! I’m ever so sorry.”

Lady Selina said calmly:

“So am I. My memories of John Exton are not of the happiest, but I wish him well—I wish him well.”

“Agatha says that a truly united couple can worry along with three arms between them. John will get his discharge and come home to his father. Agatha means to marry him at once.”

Cicely observed pensively:

“How odd of Arthur not to have told me.”

“My dear child ...!” Lady Selina raised a voice as soft as her hands. “You can’t complain if dear Arthur’s mind is full of one young woman.”

“We only heard the news yesterday,” said Tiddy.

In a majestic tone, Lady Selina held forth upon the war. Would Roumania come in after this disaster at Lemberg? The farther the Huns advanced into Russia, the longer and the more disastrous would be their retreat. She had refreshed her memory and fortified her faith in the ultimate triumph of Right over Might by re-reading the history of the 1812 campaign. Tiddy guessed that Cicely’s engagement had turned a pessimist into an optimist. Of late, throughout rural England, particularly amongst the landed gentry, faith in victory had diminished. A stale-mate was predicted by red-faced squires who derived all their information from The Times, at that moment engrossed with advertising our lamentable lack of high explosives.

“In our biggest factory,” said Tiddy, “we are making munitions instead of pills.”

Lady Selina was delighted to hear it. Presently, she said gaily:

“You two girls trot off! You want to chatter together, I am sure. I remember, as if it were yesterday, talking over my engagement with our old parson’s daughter. She was engaged to her father’s curate. That made the sÉance unduly long, because I had to listen to her after she had listened to me.”

Cicely led the way to Brian’s old rooms.

Alone with her friend, Cicely became voluble. Was she talking to disguise thought? The pupils of her eyes were dilated. Reluctantly she confessed that she had not slept very well since her engagement, now four days old! But Arthur was a dear ...! The most thoughtful and considerate of lovers ...! And generous ... He was bringing from London a pearl necklace. Of course Tiddy would be chief bridesmaid, possibly the only one grown-up. Children were adorable on such occasions. She had some tiny cousins. To walk to the altar followed by a troop of darlings ...

Tiddy said flippantly:

“Coming events cast their shadows before. I daresay children mean everything to you. Mrs. Roden showed me the old nurseries at Wilverley. She expects a lot in that way.”

Something in her tone challenged Cicely’s attention.

“How oddly you said that! Perhaps you aren’t really pleased? You have never been quite fair to Arthur. Once you called him fat. It’s muscle.”

“That appeals, too—muscle!”

“Heavens! If I didn’t know you so well, I should think you were sneering.”

Tiddy exclaimed rudely:

“Come off it.”

“Tiddy! Are you mad?”

Miss Tiddle, in her way, was a student of strategy. For many months she had read Mr. Hilaire Belloc’s articles in Land and Water. She had faith in a vigorous offensive, shock tactics, beginning with a surprise.

She said sharply:

“I have met Mr. Grimshaw. I’ve talked with him.”

“Oh-h-h!”

Tiddy’s statement might mean anything or nothing. Tiddy, so Cicely swiftly reflected, was capable of anything, even if she achieved nothing. What had she said to Grimshaw? What had Grimshaw said to her?

Tiddy went on, relentlessly:

“I’ve a lot to say to you, and I don’t want to be flooded out before I’ve done talking. Keep your powder dry! If there’s to be crying, I’ll do it. I could burst into heart-breaking sobs at this minute. A nice mess you’ve made of it.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Tiddy became melodramatic, not intentionally. She detested posing and pretence. Violence served to disguise her feelings. Cicely’s miserable face, her utter collapse at the first shot, moved Tiddy profoundly. She had half hoped, half feared, that Cicely would return shot for shot, justify her engagement, swear stoutly that she loved her lord. Instead, she sat crumpled up in her chair.

“Swear to me,” said Tiddy vehemently, “that you don’t know what I mean, that this Mr. Grimshaw is nothing to you, that you love Arthur Wilverley whole-heartedly, and I will go down on my knees and beg your pardon.”

Chandos silence ...

“I thought so.”