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Anne had noticed, that ever since the mention of Mrs. Gailey's name, Iris had raised her voice. Every word of her last speech must have been heard across the terrace, and meant to be heard.

"Oh," she began, feeling she must stop her somehow, but her husband had already broken in.

"Charley Vine's as good a chap as I'd ever want to know. He'd never pretend to be other than he is. Because he's proud of what he is—that's why."

"Darling Nick, don't jump down my throat. I'm sure Charley Vine's a most worthy young man, but having risen from the ranks and become some sort of officer during the war seems to have gone to his head a little."

"Then why has he come back to work on his father's farm?"

"Because he hopes to own it someday. But I don't much fancy him as a neighbor; so before I decide to part with a farm I may want to keep, I shall think the matter over a little longer."

Anne said, "It doesn't seem much good talking of it any more."

"Perhaps," said Iris, "thinking will be better for us all."