with the child fatigued him. It tired him, too, to talk to Basil, and Teresa caught more than one troubled and puzzled glance as the old man began to feel some change in his son. It frightened him, she could see; and she saw, too, that he dreaded any fresh blow to his sapped strength; his own troubles were all he could bear. When Basil went away, saying he had work to do, and leaving them together, the Major was visibly relieved. He did not ask about Basil, but leaning over the fire he began to talk again about himself. He told Teresa in what battles he had been wounded, and strayed into detailed war-time reminiscences, and talked about his hero, Grant; and rambled and wandered on, while she half-listened, putting in a gentle word now and then, and looking at the fire.
She was thinking, first about the Major, and realising with a shock his physical breaking-up. Then she thought what a blow to him would be any trouble between herself and Basil, and how an open rupture would affect him. If it came to that—and she was thinking it might—they ought, if possible, to spare the Major the knowledge of it. They would not have very long to wait. … He was the only one of the family on either side who would keenly feel it. Her own parents were dead, her Aunt Sophy would rejoice at her freedom, and Nina—Nina would say she had deserved it, perhaps. A hot flush blazed up
