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“I’ve promised to go for a drive with Uncle....”

“The big one! Make him bring you; it’s only ten miles—the very thing for his horses.”

“Poor old Uncle Swithin!”

A wave of the azalea scent drifted into Jun’s face; she felt sick and dizzy.

“Do! ah! do!”

“But why?”

“I must see you there—I thought you’d like to help me....”

The answer seemed to the girl to come softly with a tremble from amongst the blossoms: “So I do!”

And she stepped into the open space of the window.

“How stuffy it is here!” she said; “I can’t bear this scent!”

Her eyes, so angry and direct, swept both their faces.

“Were you talking about the house? I haven’t seen it yet, you know—shall we all go on Sunday?”

From Irene’s face the colour had flown.

“I am going for a drive that day with Uncle Swithin,” she answered.

“Uncle Swithin! What does he matter? You can throw him over!”

“I am not in the habit of throwing people over!”

There was a sound of footsteps and June saw Soames standing just behind her.

“Well! if you are all ready,” said Irene, looking from one to the other with a strange smile, “dinner is too!”