At the first she had welcomed the silence, the peace of her loneliness.

It was a balm to her.

She recovered like a flower in the night.

But she was young--she was twenty-eight this year--and as her limbs ceased to be things of lead and became once more aglow with life there came to her a need of companionship.

She tried to tramp the need away on the turf of her well-loved downs, but she failed.
A friend to share with her the joy of these summer days! Her blood clamoured for one.