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granted that they always would be.
    Blue smoke drifted across the sunlit window and formed a halo-like cloud above his head, as he smoked; standing so, with the dimness of the room behind him, he looked like an actor standing in a spotlight on stage. It was like this that Doctor Neath and Helen found him, admitted by Mrs Beeley who stared with unashamed surprise and curiosity at the old doctor's companion. He had apparently not heard them arrive, for when Mrs Beeley opened the door of the long room he did not immediately turn, and Helen felt her heart leap nervously at the sight of the straight back presented to them. Feet slightly apart, arms folded across his chest and the dark arrogance of his head well back, he looked relaxed and controlled, but not exactly welcoming.
    It was Doctor Neath who broke the silence before Mrs Beeley could say a word. 'Evan.' He stepped towards the solitary figure and seemed unperturbed by the swift turn that brought the other round to face him. The dark eyes glistened with pleasure at the sight of the old doctor, then flicked swiftly and curiously to Helen and she saw the momentary widening of surprise followed by a discouraging frown. 'I've brought Helen along as I promised, you see.' He performed introductions as if oblivious of the frown. 'This is Helen Gaynor, a very dear friend of mine; Helen, my dear, this is another old friend, Evan Davies.'
    She tried to meet and hold the dark eyes, but found the intensity of them too much and lowered her gaze with an unaccustomed shyness. A strong hand gripped her fingers briefly, then released them. He was, she told herself, even more over-awing in the flesh than he was on that intriguing photograph on the book cover. The hair and eyes were darker, much darker, both were jet black and the formidable square chin was even more aggressive and thrust out now as if he disapproved of her most heartily. It was, she decided, a most discouraging beginning. She managed to murmur some conventional greeting, but he made no such effort and his voice was sharp with annoyance when he spoke, addressing himself to Doctor Neath.
    'Miss Gaynor is much younger than I expected,' he said. 'I thought someone much older would be coming, someone more experienced.'
    Before Helen could speak in her own defence, Doctor Neath intervened, his kindly face smiling as usual in the face of the other's obvious disapproval. 'I don't think I mentioned how old Helen was,' he said blandly. ‘It doesn't really matter anyway, does it, Evan, since Helen is very competent and perfectly able to take care of Emlyn.'
    ' You should have told me she was so young,' the other said, the matter apparently still rankling with him, and Helen felt her own usually cool temper rise in protest.
    ' Since ages appear to be of such importance,' she said, her soft voice raised slightly to make herself heard, 'I was under the impression that my patient was to be a child. Now I understand that he is older, a grown man in fact.'
    'Who told you—? Oh, yes, of course.' The old doctor nodded, smiling ruefully as he became the target for two pairs of eyes, both of which condemned his deception. ‘Owen. Helen met my nephew Owen on the train coming here,' he enlarged for his host's benefit.
    ' Then it seems that we were both misled,' Evan Davies said and, turning to Helen, 'If you want to change your mind, Miss Gaynor, I shall quite understand.' The invitation, put so baldly, was hardly meant to encourage her to stay, she felt, but Doctor Neath was not to be so lightly defeated.
    ' Oh, come on, Evan,' he said, smiling at his friend in a way that made light of the whole thing. 'I admit that perhaps I should have told you both a little more about each other as I know you both so well, but you needed someone to nurse Emlyn and Helen needed to get away from that house for a while, it was too good a coincidence not to take advantage of it. Anyway,' he added, as if it could not have mattered less, 'as you're here, Helen,