Poor Claude! I fear he has suffered much; not that he says so himself: he is far too proud to complain.

But he is likely to come home on sick-leave; next mail will settle the question, but I believe we may expect him about the end of July.' 'Indeed! That is good news for all of you'; but the poker that Max had taken up fell with a little crash among the fire-irons.

Miss Darrell gave a faint scream, and then laughed at her foolish nervousness.
'It was very clumsy on my part,' stammered Max.

Could it be my fancy, or had he turned suddenly pale, as though something had startled him too?
'Oh no, it was only my poor nerves,' replied Miss Darrell, with her brightest smile.

'What was I saying?
Oh yes, I remember now,--about Claude: he wrote to Gladys to ask if he might come, and she said yes.
Ah, here comes tea, and I believe I heard Giles's ring at the bell.' I cannot tell which of the two revealed it to me,--whether it was the sudden pallor on Max's face, or the curious watchful look that I detected in Miss Darrell's eyes: it was only there for a moment, but it reminded me of the look with which a cat eyes the mouse she has just drawn within her claws.