“Who’s Mrs. Coker?” asked Ronny as they went round into the somewhat neglected garden.

“The old trout who lives with Loraine.”

They had stepped out into a paved walk. At the end of it was a girl with two black spaniels. A small girl, very fair, dressed in shabby old tweeds. Not at all the girl that Ronny had expected to see. Not, in fact, Jimmy’s usual type.

Holding one dog by the collar, she came down the pathway to meet them.

“How do you do,” she said. “You mustn’t mind Elizabeth. She’s just had some puppies and she’s very suspicious.”

She had a supremely natural manner and, as she looked up smiling, the faint wild rose flush deepened in her cheeks. Her eyes were a very dark blue⁠—like cornflowers.