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"O Peter," she whispered—"my little Peter. . . ."

"I was writing to you, darling, when you came."

"And I was on my way to see you at Conster. Father was going there after he'd called on little Joey Greening. I wouldn't come yesterday—I thought your family would be all over you, and I didn't like. . . ."

She broke off the sentence and he made no effort to trim the ragged end. Her reference to his family brought back into his thoughts the conversation he had had with his father over the wine. She had always felt his family as a cloud, as a barrier between them, and it would be difficult to tell her that now he was the heir, now he was home from the war, instead of being removed the cloud would be heavier and the barrier stronger.

"I'm so glad you came here"—he breathed into her hair"—that our first meeting's at Starvecrow."

"Yes—I'm glad, too."

Peter sat down in the leather-covered office chair, holding Stella on his knee.

"Child—they're going to give me Starvecrow."

"O Peter!". . .

"Yes—Greening wants to leave, and my father's making me agent in his place."