THE PARTICULAR INCIDENT Betty Vanderpoel's walk back to Stornham did not, long though it was, give her time to follow to its end the thread of her thoughts.

Mentally she walked again with her uncommunicative guide, through woodpaths and gardens, and stood gazing at the great blind-faced house.

She had not given the man more than an occasional glance until he had told her his name.

She had been too much absorbed, too much moved, by what she had been seeing.

She wondered, if she had been more aware of him, whether his face would have revealed a great deal.