and this was intensified at the present moment by her return to
Crailing to find everything going on just in the same old way,
precisely as though there had been no break at all.

As though to convince herself that the student life in London was a
substantial reality, and not a mere figment of the imagination, she
hummed a few bars of a song, and as she listened to the deep, rich
notes of her voice, poised with that sureness which only comes of
first-class training, she smiled a little, reflecting that if nothing
else had changed, here at least was a palpable outcome of that
dreamlike year.

"Bravo!" The Rector's cheery tones broke in upon her thoughts as he
came out from a neighbouring gateway and swung himself up into the trap
beside her. "Di, I've got to hear that voice before long. What does
Signor Baroni say about it?"

"Oh, I think he's quite pleased," she answered, whipping up the fat
pony, who responded reluctantly. "But he's a fearful martinet. He
nearly frightens me to death when he gets into one of his royal Italian
rages--though he's always particularly sweet afterwards! Pobs, I
wonder who my man in the train was?" she added inconsequently.

The Rector looked at her narrowly. He had wondered more than a little
why the shock of the railway accident had apparently affected her so
slightly, and although he had joked with Joan about some possible
"gallant rescuer" who might have diverted her thoughts he had really
attributed it partly to the youthful resiliency of Diana's nature, and
partly to the fact that when one has narrowly escaped a serious injury,
or death itself, the sense of relief is so intense as frequently to