The House by the River

rees on the Surrey side. The houses and the tall trees and the great old elms by William Morris' house stood rigid on their heads in the still water, and all that wide and comfortable reach between t

seful bargees, smoking old pipes in the stern, and pondering, no doubt, the glories of their life. Margaret this evening had a glorious barge, a great black vessel with a light blue line along the gunwale and a tangle of rigging and coffee-coloured sails strewn along her deck. As they fussed away past the Island the long waves crept smoothly across the river and stole secretly under the little boats in the roads, the sailing-boats and the rowing-boats and the motor-boats and the absurd

g the towpath on the other, making Hammerton Reach a broad and dignified affair. The time went quickly when the tide was high. There were long hours when the tide was low, when the river dwindled to a mean and dejected stream, creeping narrowly along between gloomy stretche

Chateau Yquem, followed by some quite excellent old brandy. He was by no means drunk; but he was conscious of a glow, a warm contentment. Life seemed a

soon she was to have another baby; and it would be a boy, of course. The first was a

and his little garden and his motor-boat and his dinghy and the sun-steeped window-seat in the corner of his stu

ry, commanding unobstructed the ample curve of the river to Hammersmith Bridge, a mile away. The houses were old and ill-appointed within, with rattling sashes and loose doors, but dignified and beautiful without, modest old brick draped generously with

r all over it and the green untidy garden below it, and the pretty view of the dining-room, where the

ing a bath. As he looked up he heard the sound of water tumbling down the pipes

nation towards human society which normally accompanies the warm afterglow of good wine. Mrs. Byrne was dining with her mother, and would not be back for an hour or so. Stephen regretted that he had come back so early. He could not write. He

w. Stephen stood by the old oak sideboard, luxuriously reviving the sensations of glow. The dining-room, it seemed to him, was extraordinarily beautiful; the sea

roportioned, and, for a housemaid, unusually fair to see. Her eyes, like her hair, were a very dark brown, and there was a certain refinement in her features. Her hair was hanging about her shoulders and her face-usually pale-was rosy from her bath. In the absen

t at this moment, in the special circumstances of this lovely evening, she seemed in his eyes surprisingly desirable. In the half-light from

no one else

y," said Stephen, l

She was a little surprised to see him. Cook was having her "

ght up. But when she was not looked at she was usually sensible of a certain disappointment. Stephen Byrne had not looked at her enough, and she was undeniably disappointed. She liked the look of

e her demure and unaffected descent. Cook would have turned and fled up th

red, "Oh, sir," and scurried like a young hind away from him, there is no doub

rdly space for her to pass. Stephen made no move. He said fatuously, "Had a nice bath, Emily?" and he

ve as an electric spark-but what a glance! Yet she made no attempt to stop; she did n

eceived and registered that naughty a

re. He closed his right arm about the girl and firmly e

scre

purely formal opposition. Emily Gaunt was prepared to be kissed, but not suddenly, not violently. It should have been properly led up to-a little talk, a compliment or two, some blushes, and a delicate embrace. That was the prope

neighbours, of John Egerton, of old Mrs. Ambrose across the way. Suppose they heard. It became urgent to stop the screaming. Playfully, a

e fool," he said. "

ened about the neck and the scream was never heard. "Now, will you be quiet?" he said.

of despairing wail, a thin and inarticulate "Help!" came fro

wed it a little. Now it took complete charge. With a throaty growl of exasperation he put both hands at the soft throat of Emily and shook he

ly knew that this silly screaming was intolerable and must be stopped-stopped for certain, without further bother ... before the whole street came round ... before his wife came back ... before ... "Stop it, will you?... For God's sake, stop it!" he cried, almost plaintively, as his

a hat-peg. Her weight became suddenly noticeable. Emily's hands stopped scrabbling at his wrists ... her bare feet stopped kicking.

ered past him to the floor. Her forehead hit the bottom corner of t

the sound of sn

e light, groping stupidly in the dark for the switch. His hands were shaking-

Emily's shoulders. He pull

ispered. "My Go

e with his head lowered was peering thr