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Both times Rosamund was left with a feeling of anticlimax. Despite John’s insistence that she had no need to fear him, she
was
afraid. Afraid that despite all the dictates of common sense, he would somehow persuade her to surrender to him. How or why that was to come about, she did not stop to think. Simply, she had made up her mind that she would not retreat a single inch from the stand she had taken. The past was over and done with. The door to it was firmly shut and that was how it was going to remain.

So she told herself on each occasion when she set out with her father to meet John and deliberately braced herself to resist even the slightest move on his part towards reconciliation.

But he had not made any such attempt. His manner had been impersonal, businesslike and courteous—nothing more. There was nothing for her to resist, which made her feel rather foolish, though not entirely reassured. John
might
have accepted her refusal to give him the chance he asked for as definite and final—or he might be deliberately putting her off her guard. But it really didn’t matter which, she told herself firmly. Meeting John for the purpose of straightening out the tangle of her having been married in the wrong name was one thing. It was unavoidable. But to meet him on a social footing was a very different matter and a state of affairs which she could and would see never happened. So that, very definitely, was that. And John would have to realise it.

All the same, she wished she hadn’t got so much time on her hands. For so many years she had been accustomed to working hard and though the time had come when she had desperately needed a holiday, the desire for relaxation had gone. What she wanted more than anything else was for time to pass as quickly as possible, and to work hard was, she was sure, the only way to bring that about.

She explained this to Dr. Rob, but though he agreed that she was right in principle, he was far from encouraging when it came to the questions of her putting precept into practice. In fact, he asked her point blank not to do so, and it was a request which, coming from him, she hadn’t the heart to refuse.

He had been so good to her, but more than that, she was very much aware of the warmth of his feeling for her and the deep satisfaction which it gave him to look after the daughter he had only so recently known existed. Satisfaction—and something more. Peace of mind. Rosamund knew that he blamed himself to a large degree for the estrangement from her mother, and in caring for her, he felt he was making a belated atonement.

So she agreed to wait for. a time before looking for work and turned her hand to whatever she could to occupy her mind. And here Dr. Rob helped. He introduced her to the big London teaching hospital at which he was a consultant and Rosamund quickly found herself involved in a variety of ways. She helped with the shop on wheels which did the rounds of all the wards, and with the hospital library as well. She wrote letters for patients who for one reason or another couldn’t do it for themselves, and she did her best to amuse children bored by enforced inactivity. It was satisfying work, but it was too piecemeal to be entirely absorbing. However, it did suggest the possibility of training for some full-time hospital work, and she wondered' if that was the reason why Dr. Rob had got her interested in it. If it was, he made no mention of the idea, evidently feeling that the decision must be entirely hers.

Nor was that the only evidence of his tact and understanding. Knowing just how much his weekends on the
Rosebud
meant to him, she had dreaded the possibility that he might take it for granted she would go with him on these trips. But that would have been something she would have had to refuse him. That brief interval of happiness when she had lived in a fool’s paradise was too bitter a memory for her to want to recall it. However, the question didn’t arise, for Dr. Rob suggested that, since she had seen so little even of her own country, they might do some exploring together. Thankfully, Rosamund agreed, and the first weekend they spent at a centuries-old hotel in Suffolk, which was almost as unknown to Dr. Rob as to her. She liked the tranquil, unspoilt countryside, and if the two of them didn’t talk very much, they were none the less conscious of a sense of companionship.

The second weekend they spent at the home of some old friends of Dr. Rob’s in the heart of Sussex, and though Rosamund didn’t enjoy that so much, she admitted to herself that it was a good thing to meet people. It compelled one to forget one’s own troubles.

Miss Alice felt old and tired and dispirited. Everything had gone wrong and so far as she could see there was nothing that could be done to put matters right. And such a short time ago everything had looked so promising. She knew, none better, just how much Rob regretted his share in the failure of his marriage. Then, at last, it had looked as if he was going to get some happiness out of it. She’d rejoiced wholeheartedly with him over Rosamund’s unexpected arrival in his life, not least of all because she had been able to help there. But now much of his joy in the discovery that he had a daughter had been ruined by other people—by Rosamund herself, by John and, of course, by Ruth. She knew the whole story from Rob’s letters and because it was his happiness which mattered most to her, she felt cross and impatient with the people who had stood in the way of its fulfilment.

“Bother them and their complexes and inhibitions,” she muttered irritably. “Why should any of them expect that life should be arranged just to suit them? If they were less concerned with getting what they want out of it and thought more—my poor old Rob !”

In this brooding state of mind, even painting brought no solace. She found difficulty in concentrating and she was thoroughly dissatisfied with her watercolours of the canal scenes which had once provided such satisfying material.

“No life in ’em,” she said disgustedly, and tore them up into fragments. “Might as well give up and go back to Town—”

But she stayed on, lonely and disconsolate and yet oddly reluctant to leave the
Pride of London.

“Almost as if I felt that somehow or other I’ll be able to help, just staying here,” she mused wonderingly. “though for the life of me, I don’t see how that can make sense! Oh well, I’d better make a cup of tea, I suppose!” Drinking her tea, she made up her mind that she would stay just two more days. If nothing happened by then, she would admit defeat—

The very next day John turned up. Miss Alice, sitting idly on deck in the sunshine, saw him come through the gate in the hedge and caught her breath. Had she been right? Was there a purpose behind her decision to stay on here? It made one wonder—

As he reached the gangplank of the
Seven Stars
he saw her, hesitated and then walked slowly towards her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Alice."

She looked at him with unfriendly eyes.

“And what are you doing here?” she demanded.

“My tenure of the
Seven Stars
expires in a few days’ time,” he explained equably, ignoring her truculent manner, “and as I’m not proposing to renew it, I must clear out my gear.”

“In that case, I’ll pack Rosamund’s clothes and you can take them as well,” Miss Alice said briskly, watching intently for his reaction to that.

John frowned. He had been hoping that his visit might coincide with a time when Miss Alice happened to be away, but his luck was out.

“There’s not much point in me doing that,” he said coldly. “Rosamund, as you surely know, has left me and is living with her father.”

“Yes, I do know,” Miss Alice admitted tartly. “And I never heard such nonsense in all my life! Quarrelling before you’ve been married five minutes—you ought to be ashamed, the pair of you!”

Without replying, John turned deliberately and walked in the direction of his own boat, but Miss Alice hadn’t finished with him.

“That’s right, run away!” she called waspishly after him. “That’s all you young folk ever do if you don’t get your own way! No backbone, that’s your trouble !”

John wheeled and came back. They confronted one another, two very angry people.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he declared loudly.

“No? Then suppose you tell me?” Miss Alice snapped, quite unperturbed by this irate young man who towered so threateningly above her. “And kindly don’t shout at me! My hearing is perfectly good, I’m glad to say.”

“I’m sorry,” John said impatiently. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. But this is Rosamund’s business and mine. I can’t discuss it with you.”

“No? Even though the minx is running circles round you and you haven’t a notion what to do next?” Miss Alice said quizzically.

“I—” John began, and stopped short. “Look, Miss Alice, I’m sure you mean to be kind, but really—”

“Now, as I see it, this is the situation,” Miss Alice said briskly just as if he hadn’t spoken. “For some reason, you and Rosamund have, to use a nice, old-fashioned phrase, fallen out with one another. No, don’t worry, I’m not asking you to tell me the reason for that, though, at a guess, I’d say it’s something more than just your wretched money, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” John admitted curtly.

Miss Alice looked at him consideringly. Rob, not unnaturally, perhaps, blamed him rather than Rosamund for the estrangement, but she wasn’t so sure. Usually there were faults on both sides, and anyway, she’d always found something likeable about John, despite his inclination to scowl so blackly—as he was doing now.

“I
wonder how much you know about the way a
woman’s mind works?” she remarked meditatively.

John shrugged his shoulders and earned a nod of approval.

“Well, at least you know your own limitations,” she commented drily. “Which is more than most men do!” She paused and then went on almost casually: “But even so, of course you know that the quickest way of persuading a woman to admit that she's wrong is to apologise for the offence as if you were the culprit.”

“You may be quite right,” John said distastefully. “But I’m not interested in double-dealing of that sort. In any case, it doesn’t apply here.”

Miss Alice made no comment, but a question was so obviously in her mind that John’s annoyance mounted. He’d been a fool to rise to that gibe of hers—if he’d ignored it, she’d have been left high and dry. But now— wasn’t the simplest thing to tell her the truth?

“The fault for what has happened lies with me alone,” he told her harshly. “Rosamund is not in the least to blame.”

Still Miss Alice said nothing. John scowled. Confound this inquisitive, interfering old woman—

“She is fully aware that I admit this and also that I greatly regret—” he left the sentence unfinished and went on doggedly: “You will have to accept the fact, as I have had to, that the decision rightly rests with Rosamund. I absolutely refuse to coerce her in any way and I most sincerely hope, Miss Alice, that neither you nor anyone else attempts to do so. Is that clear?”

“Oh yes, quite clear,” Miss Alice assured him placidly. “Thank you for explaining. Of course, it’s a pity, but there it is, these things happen and one has to accept the fact! But one can’t help feeling that, the way things have turned out, it would really have been better if your marriage hadn’t been legal, wouldn’t it?”

Again John turned his back on her—but not before she had had a fleeting glimpse of the desolation too deep and bitter to share with anyone.

“Oh, poor boy, poor boy!” she thought compassionately. “He’d give anything—everything—he’s got to get her back! I do wonder what—but really, that matters less now than the fact that he’s played himself into an impossible position! It’s all very fine and noble to say that he’s to blame and he won’t have her coerced, but what that means is that he’s robbed himself of any chance of making good in his eyes because he won’t go near her. I wonder—” her eyes narrowed in the way they did when she wanted to concentrate on one particularly important detail of a painting. “Yes—I think he asked Rosamund to give him a chance to do just that—and she refused,” she decided. “So now, unless Rosamund makes a move, they’ll drift further and further apart—and somehow, I doubt whether she will. Not with her upbringing!”

She frowned deeply, considering this. Ruth’s fangs had been drawn as regards making any future trouble, but had the damage already been done? Despite the sophisticated background which Rosamund had known, it wouldn’t be surprising if she was almost completely inexperienced in the ways of men. Of course, she must have met plenty, but one didn’t need to. be very perceptive to conclude, particularly when one remembered past history, that Ruth would see to it that the child never had a man friend. She was far too valuable an asset to Ruth for that to be allowed to happen! Which would inevitably mean that the child had no idea that the same man could, at times, be a blundering hobbledehoy and at others, far more vulnerable and sensitive than any woman could ever be.

Nor would Rosamund ever learn that this inherent contradictoriness is an infuriating, intriguing and— altogether lovable male characteristic which makes life for a woman worth living—if she really loves her man.

“Of course, she’d say she doesn’t,” Miss Alice sighed impatiently. “And so long as she sees nothing of him, she’ll be able to convince herself that’s true! Dear me, it’s very difficult to think of anything—”

The telephone bell was ringing as Rosamund and her father came into the flat. They had been to the theatre and were rather late—a fact on which Dr. Rob commented on as he picked up the receiver.

“And I hope to goodness it isn’t an emergency patient,”

he commented wryly. “I’m beginning to feel my years and I need a good night’s sleep. Yes, Robert Dexter speaking,” he said into the instrument. “Who? Mrs. Watchett at the shop! Yes, what’s the trouble, Mrs. Watchett?”

His expression changed from one of mild vexation to one of extreme concern as he listened for several moments to Mrs. Watchett’s voluble flow of speech which paused now and again, but only so briefly as to give him time to say: “Yes, yes, I understand—” at intervals.