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"You mean Waters Farm?" In the dusk it was just possible to see the flags of color mount on her cheeks. "What I can't make him understand is that I'm not just trying to run the place as a farm but as a home for homeless people."

Anne did not want to start an argument about Waters Farm in front of the new secretary. She tried to give a careful reply.

"As long as they do the work they'd have to do if they had the homes they ought to have—"

"And you think they don't?"

"Well . . . not all of them, perhaps."

Iris's voice came suddenly across the terrace from where she sat with Nicholas.

"Come over here and talk to me, Anne. I've scarcely had a word with you this evening."

Anne left her seat and crossed over to her. "I thought you wanted to talk to Nick."

"So I do—did, I mean. We've talked and we've quarreled. What I want to do now is to save you from that ghastly woman."

"I was talking to Lesley," said Anne, glancing anxiously at her husband's face. He looked ruffled.

"Yes, but she was there listening all the time. I've endured her the whole evening and I can tell you she's deadly. You've no idea how she talked at dinner—trying to show that she's used to this sort of house and betraying her ignorance at every word. Really, I'm most distressed at Lesley having her with her here, and I'm sure she's no good as a secretary."