small rooms at the top. Anthony added an extra kitchen and let the rest of the house to a Mr. Arnold Landripp, an architect. He had for some years been occupying the two large schoolrooms as an office. He was a widower. His daughter, who had been at school in the south of England and afterwards at University College, had now joined him. She was aged about twenty, and was said to be a "high-brow." The term was just coming into use. She was a tall, pale girl with coal black eyes. She wore her hair brushed back from her forehead and, in secret, smoked cigarettes, it was rumoured.
Betty and her father lived practically abroad. They had taken a flat in Florence and had let The Priory furnished to a cousin of Mr. Mowbray who owned the big steel works at Shawley, half-way up the valley.
Anthony had been generous over the sharing of profits; and Mr. Mowbray had expressed himself as more than satisfied.
"I was running the business on to the rocks," he confessed. "There wouldn't have been much left for Betty. As it is, I shall die with an easy mind, thanks to you."
He held out his hand. He and Anthony had been having a general talk in the great room with its three domed windows that had been Mr. Mow-
