Miss Cheyne opened it, wearing the composed expression of attention with which she had greeted Hillyard when he had sought admission first.

But her face broke up into friendliness and smiles, when she recognised him, and she drew him into the room.
"The Commodore's away for a week," she said.

"He had come to the end: no sleep, nerves all jangled.

He is up in Scotland shooting grouse." Hillyard nodded.

His news could wait a week very well, since it had waited already two years.
"And you ?" he asked.
"Oh, I had a fortnight," replied Miss Cheyne, her eyes dancing at the recollection.