She raised her eyes and looked out, over the Close,
to where the Cathedral rose like a diamond set in
emeralds. What a beautiful day -- and how quiet, how
much more quiet than usual, was the dear, familiar,
peaceful scene! All this week, thanks in a great
measure to the prolonged Bank Holiday, Witanbury
had been bathed in a sabbatical calm.

Oddly enough, this had not been as pleasant as it
ought to have been. In fact, it had been rather unpleasant
to find nearly all the shops shut day after
day, and it had become really awkward and annoying
not to be able to get money as one required it. At
this very moment Rose was out in the town, trying
to cash a cheque, for they were quite out of petty
cash.

During the last three days Major Guthrie, who so
seldom allowed more than a day and a half to slip
by without coming to the Trellis House, had not called,
neither had he written. Mrs. Otway was surprised,
and rather annoyed with herself, to find how much
she missed him. She realised that it was the more
unreasonable of her, as at first, say all last Wednesday,
she had shrunk from the thought of seeing him,
the one person among her acquaintances, with the insignificant
exception of young Jervis Blake, who had
believed in the possibility of an Anglo-German conflict.
But when the whole of that long day, the first
day of war, had gone by, and the next day also,
without bringing with it even the note which, during
his infrequent absences, she had grown accustomed
to receive from Major Guthrie, she felt hurt and
injured.

Major Guthrie was one of those rather inarticulate

[[85]]

p084 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p085w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p086

v?