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“However, appreciating, as I do—as we all do—all that you and your husband have done to help us in our recent dilemma, I should not like you to feel that we are not grateful! And since you make a personal matter of Miss Fletcher’s case, I’ll do all I can. Mind, I’m not making any promises at this juncture, but I will go so far as to say that if, after thorough investigation, your anxiety on her account is felt to be justified, then we will see if anything can be done ! Now, does that satisfy you, Mrs. Lindsay?”

“Yes, indeed,” Rosamund said earnestly. “It’s most reassuring because I’m quite sure that you wouldn’t go as far as that unless you, too, intended to make a personal matter of it—and if that’s so, then I’m quite sure something will come of it! For you must, I’m convinced, have a great deal of influence where the other Governors are concerned!”

It was the sort of compliment that Sir George himself might have paid, and Rosamund hadn’t found it pleasant to use such tactics, but certainly they were successful. Sir George positively purred!

“Well, dear lady, I mustn’t boast, but you may be right, and I will certainly exert it to the utmost in view of your confidence in me. One does like to live up to the expectations of one’s friends—I hope I may call you that?”

“Of course,” Rosamund murmured.

“Delightful! And fellow conspirators as well, of course ' This shall be our little secret—we will form a Miss Fletcher Benevolent Appeal, shall we?” Sir George paused expectantly.

“What an amusing idea! ” Rosamund said lightly. “I
knew
I could rely on you, Sir George!”

“I will let you know how matters progress,” he promised expectantly.

“I shall be most interested to hear,” Rosamund said cordially. “But of course, the really important thing is to let Miss Fletcher know as soon as possible if it’s good news. It would, I’m sure, facilitate her recovery from her operation.”

“Yes, of course,” Sir George agreed without much interest. “I will take immediate steps—

“Thank you
so
much!” Rosamund said earnestly. “Then I won’t waste any more of your time, Sir George. Good-bye! ” and rang off before he had time to say more.

For a moment or two she sat still at the desk, her elbows on its polished surface, her face buried in her hands.

She was reasonably sure that Miss Fletcher’s future was now assured—Sir George would see to that. For one thing, his change in manner could only mean that it had suddenly occurred to him how dependent he and his fellow Governors were on the good will of John and, in hardly a lesser degree, herself. Indeed he had almost said as much. And then appealing to him in the way she had done had pandered to his vanity. He would just hate to admit that he hadn’t got the influence necessary to sway the Board!

She gave an impatient little sigh. Was John right! Had everybody got their price? Was expediency always the controlling factor? It certainly seemed like it nowadays, so why not run with the herd? Why put oneself at a disadvantage by believing in such old-fashioned things as disinterested kindness and generosity? It simply didn’t pay! Much more sensible and far less painful to accept that as fact and harden one’s own heart.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a maid with her breakfast tray.

“Cook asked me to say that she’s that sorry it’s so late, madam, but somehow, with all the upset, the kitchen got sort of out of routine—” she apologised.

“It’s all right,” Rosamund said mechanically. “I’m only just ready for it. Thank you, Rose.”

There were, she saw, two letters lying on the tray, but she left them unopened until she had poured out her coffee and drunk half of it. Then, leaving the food untasted, she turned her attention to the letters. The first she opened was from her bank manager, acknowledging her request that her account should now be in her married name. The second—she flinched as she saw the familiar handwriting—was from her aunt. It was very much to the point.

“It may come as a surprise to you to know that financially
,
I’m in very low water. Why? The usual reasons
—
ever-increasing overheads and less money being spent on luxuries.

“None the less, I’m confident that I can make out if I can keep going for another year. Unfortunately, I can’t find anyone to agree with me—and who also has the capital to back me.

“So, naturally I turn to you! You are now the wife of a very rich man to whom the ten thousand pounds I want is a mere trifle. In all probability, he has by now settled a pleasant amount on you
,
but whether he has or not, I want ten thousand and I mean to have it by fair means or foul.

“Understand, Rosamund
,
I mean that
,
and you’ll be a fool to turn me down.

Ruth Hastings.”

Rosamund didn’t hesitate. Of course she couldn’t do as her aunt wished, threats or no threats. She pushed the breakfast tray to one side and wrote a brief reply.

“What you ask is out of the question. Please understand that this is final.

Rosamund Lindsay
.”

She put the letter into an envelope, sealed and addressed it and then hesitated uncertainly with it balanced on the palm of her hand. It wasn’t that she was afraid of her aunt’s threats—she had already done so much harm that it was difficult to see what more she could do. But it was clear that she intended to make an issue of it, and that being so, it was doubtful if she would accept such a curt dismissal of her request.

There was, in fact, only one way in which to convince her—by explaining just why it was out of the question. And that Rosamund shrank from doing in writing, unreasonable though that was. Her determination to leave John was an admission that her marriage was in ruins and that it was beyond her ability to rebuild it, even if she wanted to. And yet—there was such a finality about the written word—

“I’ll go and see her,” she decided. “Tell her that I can’t help her, let her make ail the threats she likes and then explain why. It won’t be easy, but it will put an end to it once and for all.”

Having made up her mind, Rosamund wasted no time. She consulted a time-table, arranged to be taken by car to the nearest station and that done, changed into clothes more suitable for London. Finally she rang through to Mrs. Brickwell, explaining that she had to go to Town on business but she would be back in time for dinner.

“I think that’s all—” she thought as she replaced the house phone. “Gloves, handbag, money—yes, that’s everything.” Then she caught sight of the letter she had written still lying on the desk. “I’ll take it with me,” she decided. “In case I can’t get hold of Aunt Ruth.”

It was as well she did take it, for her aunt was at neither the flat nor at the Salon. She had, it appeared, flown to Paris the previous evening and was not expected back until the following morning.

Rosamund left her letter at the flat with instructions to the hall porter to see that it was delivered immediately Miss Hastings returned. Then, with nothing left to do, she left the block of flats and wandered aimlessly along the busy, noisy street.

How incredible, she thought idly, that at one time not so very long ago this had been part of the familiar background of her life that she had accepted without question.

“But never again!” she decided. “Whatever happens, I’ll never live in London again—never! It’s intolerable.”

The thought brought to her mind the need to decide just what she was going to do. In no circumstances, once she had left him, would she accept any money from John. Anything else was out of the question. She had enough money of her own saved which would tide her over for some time, but ultimately she must find work. Work as different as possible from that which she had previously done—it might not be easy—

Her thoughts were interrupted by the realisation that someone was obstructing her way. Automatically she stepped to one side, but came to a halt at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Rosamund, my dear, how very nice to have met you!” said Dr. Rob.

With a little gasp, Rosamund looked up into the pleasant, smiling face. There was no reproach there, no suggestion that he regarded anything that had happened as being in the least out of the ordinary. Reassured,' Rosamund pulled herself together.

“How amazing that we should have happened to meet,” she said lightly, “for I’m only up in Town for a few hours.”

“Then perhaps we may regard the coincidence as a special dispensation of Providence,” Dr. Rob suggested just as lightly, “and make the most of it! Have you lunched yet?”

“No, I haven’t,” Rosamund admitted reluctantly, realising what was coming and how she could possibly excuse herself. “But—”

“No?” Dr. Rob interrupted gaily. “Then perhaps my luck is in! Will you indulge an old fogey who doesn’t often have the opportunity of entertaining a pretty girl by having it with me?”

It was impossible to refuse, for, without waiting for her
to reply, Dr. Rob had slipped his arm through hers and had hailed a passing taxi.

He took her to his club for lunch—a solid Victorian building which had a reassuring air of permanency about it. It was also very quiet and peaceful, and as he led Rosamund through the entry hall to the restaurant, he had the satisfaction of seeing that she relaxed a little—but only a little. Clearly, there was something very far wrong and he was determined to do his best to find out what it was—but not immediately. He must lead up to it gradually—gain her confidence.

“Now,” he said cheerfully as they sat down at a table, “I don’t know how you feel about it, but as far as I’m concerned, a light meal is preferable this weather. Does that suit you?”

“Yes, please,” Rosamund said, pulling off her gloves. “As a matter of fact, I had rather a late breakfast.”

“Oh? Did you sleep in?” Dr. Rob asked casually.

“No, nothing like that. Just there was an upset. One of the Orphanage staff had to be rushed off to hospital for an emergency operation,” Rosamund explained, thinking with surprise how long ago all that seemed. “She’d had a grumbling appendix for some time and it came to a head suddenly.”

“I see. But, Rosamund, how did you get involved in that? I mean, surely some other member of the staff could have dealt with the situation?”

“I expect they would have done if they’d been at the Orphanage,” Rosamund said quickly. “But they haven’t been very long at Lindacres, you know. And it takes time to get settled—”

“Also—” he looked at her thoughtfully, “I have an idea that you’re the sort of person to whom other people turn in an emergency,” he suggested quizzically. “Partly because you keep your head—and partly because they know that they can rely on your kind heart coming to the rescue?”

At that moment the waiter brought the iced melon Dr. Rob had ordered and she was able to avoid replying immediately, and to her relief, when Dr. Rob next spoke, it was on some entirely different and trivial subject.

For the rest of the meal he very skilfully maintained an almost one-sided conversation about nothing in particular until, over their coffee, he said suddenly:

“I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but Miss Alice is in town at present. Would you like me to take you to see her?”

“Oh!” Rosamund shrank back a little and her. coffee cup clattered slightly as she set it down in its saucer. “I—I’m not sure that Miss Alice would want to see me. You see I—it must seem to her that after all her kindness I treated her rather shabbily—though, honestly, I couldn’t help it, Dr. Rob!”

Her eyes—so like another pair of eyes that he remembered—pleaded with him to leave it at that, and almost he was tempted to do so. The child was so near to breaking point that even the slightest extra pressure might be the last straw. And yet—he drew a deep breath.

“Rosamund, my child—” he spoke very gently and laid his hand momentarily over hers, “I’m not a doctor for nothing, you know! I can see, only too well, that you’re in trouble. Won’t you tell me what it is? I might be able to help.”

“No, nobody can do that,” Rosamund told him dully. “I—I can’t talk about it. And anyway, it isn’t fair to burden someone who is—”

“Who is practically a stranger?” he suggested, finishing her uncompleted sentence for her.

“That sounds ungracious when you’re so kind,” Rosamund admitted. “But yes, something like that.”

“I see.” Dr. Rob nodded, his fingers tapping a little tattoo on the tablecloth. “Well, if that’s how it is, I’ll do no more than ask you one question which, of course, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to—”

He paused. Rosamund had stiffened defensively and her eyes were full of apprehension. But he had gone too far to draw back now.

“It’s quite a simple question,” he assured her. “Just this—will you tell me what your mother’s name was?”

“Oh! ” Rosamund almost laughed with relief. She had expected something very different from this! “Celia. Celia Elizabeth Hastings. But—-but why do you want to know?”

For answer, Dr. Rob took his wallet from his pocket and extracted a folded paper from it which he handed to her in silence.

Wonderingly, Rosamund unfolded it and saw that it was a marriage certificate. She read it once—and a second time—with a growing sense of amazement.

“But—but—” she stammered, her eyes still on the certificate.

“Yes,” Dr. Rob ,said deliberately. “The certificate of the marriage of Celia Elizabeth Hastings and Robert Irwin Dexter.
My
marriage certificate—and your mother’s. Now do you understand why your happiness means so much to me—
daughter
?”

ROSAMUND sat beside Dr Rob, her hand held comfortably in his. When, they had left his club, he had brought her to his Harley Street flat and now, though she was still dazed at the discovery that she had a father, she was beginning to believe that it was true.

But there was much that they had to explain to one another. Dr. Rob told his story first, and he did not spare himself.