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'I
didn't think he'd be—' He stopped, obviously having said more than he intended, and she looked at him curiously.

'You said that you thought he'd still be away,' she said. ‘Has he been away, then?'

He looked down at the drink he held in his hand and frowned slightly. 'Yes,' he said at last, and obviously intended to say no more, so she let the matter drop. She sat for a moment gazing out over the open valley, trying to fit in the idea of a woman of Howell's type with her knowledge of Evan Davies, and failed. There was so much that was different. There was a coarseness about Howell both in speech and manner that she could not match with Evan Davies' more refined character, even discounting his rudeness to her at times.

‘Is he really Emlyn's uncle?' she asked, and he nodded with a wry smile.

'
Oh, yes, it's quite true, though they see very little of each other, as you can imagine.'

'
But he's so—so different,' she said, remembering the broad, coarse features and the lilting accent made harsh by the loud voice, so utterly unlike the Davies' fineboned features and cultured speech. Owen arched his brows in no doubt as to her meaning.

‘Class is a dirty word these days, isn't it?' he said dryly. 'But there are times when it's the only applicable one.' He eyed her speculatively for a moment as if in doubt about something he was about to say. ‘Has my uncle told you anything about the Davies?' he asked at last, and Helen shook her head.

‘Nothing,' she said, and eyed him uncertainly. 'Perhaps he thinks it isn't necessary for me to know. He is a friend of Evan's and if it's family business I have no real right to know.'

He smiled at her. 'All I can tell you, my dear Helen, is common knowledge,' he told her. 'Anyone of those men in there could tell you as much, so I won't be letting out any secrets.'

'
And Ev—Mr Davies wouldn't object?' She did not know why that should matter so much, but somehow it did, and she sought his reassurance.

'Evan probably thinks you know already,' he said, taking up her use of the Christian name and teasing her about it with a smile. 'It's the reason he puts up that prickly barrier around himself, so it won't make any difference if I tell you; not to Evan Davies anyway.' He looked at her for a moment in silence, then smiled at her again. 'You quite like him, don't you, despite everything?'

Helen looked startled and shook her head a moment later to dispel the impression. 'I don't dislike him,' she said slowly, 'which is just as well, as I have to see him quite often and we're in each other's company every evening, or most evenings anyway.'

'And familiarity hasn't yet bred contempt?' he asked.

'
No! Of course not,' she denied with every appearance of indignation at the idea. 'I don't think I could ever do that.'

'
All this land belonged to the Davies at one time,' Owen said, including the quarries that scarred the nearest valley, in the sweep of his hand. 'There used to be quite a few quarries worked at one time but there's only the one now and it's still owned by them. That didn't make them any more popular, of course, with the village people.' She heard about the past feuds and the resentment felt by the village folk for the 'outsiders’, the resentment that was only now dying out, but which had been fanned briefly again into life by the marriage of Evan Davies and Dilys Howell.

In the old days the house of Glyntarrach had by tradition been staffed by the women of the Howell family; it was a thing passed on for generations in the days when the house was well staffed, before it became necessary to employ only a housekeeper and a daily woman apart from the ground staff to keep the gardens in trim. Dilys Howell had come to Glyntarrach at fourteen, following her mother in the way that had always been and during the next two years had grown into a delicately beautiful girl that Evan Davies could scarcely pretend not to notice.

The Davies family had been more than a little dubious about the marriage, but they had eventually succumbed to the pressure of the Howell family and to the combined persuasion of Dilys herself and of young Evan who was, even then, accustomed to having his own way. At sixteen they were an extremely youthful and attractive pair, but their difference in upbringing had caused more than heads to shake in the village. They had quarrelled often and then made it up again, but the outcome had been only as the suspicious villagers expected.

Helen's heart leapt as she waited to hear heaven knew what about Evan Davies' wife and she looked at Owen anxiously until he continued. 'Was she very lovely?' she asked, her desire to know prompted by some strange feeling she did not altogether understand.

'
So I've been told,' Owen said, watching her surreptitiously as he spoke. ‘Uncle David knew her, of course, and he says so, but I was only nine years old at the time so pretty girls didn't mean a thing to me. Uncle David says she was a real beauty.'

'Was? She's dead?' She had been half expecting to hear that she was dead, but just the same it gave her an odd feeling of finality.

'She died when Emlyn was born,' he said. ‘You remember I told you on the train that there was something of a kerfuffle when it happened—well, I checked with my uncle and he confirms what I remembered. You see the elder Davies, Evan's mother and father were away somewhere that day and there was only the housekeeper and the two young people there. Not Mrs Beeley, the woman before her, an aunt of Dilys’s. Seemingly Dilys was very fond of climbing up to the seat on Glyneath—there's a fabulous view from the other side of the mountain, you know, about thirty or forty feet up.' Helen remembered the way the path up the mountainside curved away round a comer and out of sight and she nodded. 'Well, there's a small sort of plateau place, with a rock seat that's quite big enough and comfortable enough to sit on. I've been up there several times myself, it's well worth the climb, and it gives one an oddly elated sensation. Well anyway, as I was saying, Dilys Davies decided that she was going up there this day and though Evan tried to stop her, she insisted, and they had one of their inevitable quarrels and she went off. Heaven knows how long she was up there, no one seems to know exactly, but when she came down she was in a pretty bad way and they had to send for my uncle.'

'She died,' Helen said softly, feeling sympathy for the child who had taken such a risk to see a favourite view.

Owen spread his hands at the inevitability of it. 'He managed to save the baby, but poor, silly little Dilys died.'

'
It's terribly sad,' Helen said, her blue eyes soft with pity for the two young people for whom life had gone so wrong, so early. She thought of the dark, brooding face of Evan Davies and wondered how much he blamed himself through all the years that followed. She tried to picture him as a sixteen-year-old boy, bewildered and probably frightened by the turn of events. ‘Poor Evan.' The expression was unconscious and Owen, in his understanding, feigned not to notice it.

'The Howells have never forgiven the Davies,' he said, 'although it was they who urged the wedding should take place. They've never made any actual trouble over it, but there were some nasty rumours for a while and in the old days they would probably have demanded blood in revenge; now they're content to stay away from them.'

‘Does Emlyn ever see any of them?’ she asked. 'They are his relations, after all.'

He shrugged. 'He may,' he said, 'but he wouldn’t say anything to his father if he did.'

‘And the grandparents are dead too?’ she asked, and he nodded.

'
Mrs Davies died when Emlyn was about four, I think, and the old man died only a year or so afterwards. He was much older than she was, so my uncle says, and he never got over her death. She was killed in a crash.' He looked at her steadily for a moment while she pondered on the story he had just told her.

'
My uncle says you look rather like her,' he said suddenly, and laughed. 'And that’s a compliment, because I rather gather that Uncle David had his eye on Margaret Jenkins himself before Clifford Davies married her.’

'Is that why your uncle is a bachelor?’ she asked, glad to rid herself of the somewhat overpowering sadness of the Davies story and turn to lighter things. 'He was crossed in love?’

'I think so,' Owen said with a smile. ‘Anyway, Uncle David is like me, he believed in loving them all a little.’

'A very wise decision,’ Helen said solemnly but with a glint of laughter in her eyes.

'At
least that
was
my moral,' he said with his eyes on
her face and a gleam of something
like
laughter
in his
gaze. '
I
may have cause to change
my mind
before long.'
He
put down his empty
glass on
the table
and,
resting his chin on his hands, smiled
at her. 'What
shall we do tomorrow,
Nurse
Gaynor?'

'
Tomorrow,' she told him with mock solemnity, 'I shall be looking after my patient,' and he pulled a
wry
face at the information.

‘Yes,
I
suppose you must,'
he
allowed, ‘though you've only had one day off this week and you should have three. You see,' he added with
a
laugh, '
I
said I'd keep an eye on you, and
I
am.'

'I can scarcely claim to be overworked,' Helen protested, 'and I really don't mind staying with Emlyn, although I've been informed that I'm not to do it any more.' She pulled a face.

‘Evan?' he queried, and she nodded. 'Then he's got more sense than I gave him credit for.'

‘I rather think it was because I'd disobeyed orders than that I wasn't getting enough free time,' she said, and a moment later regretted having said it, shaking her head and smiling ruefully. 'No, that's not strictly true really. I'm being unfair.'

‘But you will come out with me again?' he asked. Helen nodded. 'I'd love to, Owen, thank you, I've had a lovely time this afternoon; I don't remember when I enjoyed anything so much for years.'

‘Good. Then we'll repeat the dose as Uncle David advised, even if we have to wait until next week for another free afternoon.'

‘We shall have to,' she told him. 'I'm not off again this week. I really should be getting back,' she added with a quick, guilty glance at her wristwatch. 'It's later than I intended.' They were almost back to Glyntarrach along the rough made road when a large grey Jaguar car swept past them, the driver raising one hand briefly in thanks as they moved over to make room for him. Helen was sure she recognized the black head and dark profile of the driver in the fleeting glimpse she had of him, and Owen’s next words confirmed it.

'
Your boss,' he said cryptically, and Helen frowned.

'
He was going rather fast for the state of the road, wasn’t he?’ she said, remembering not only the way his mother had died but also his condemnation of Tracey Owen. 'It could be dangerous.'

'He’s a very good driver,' said Owen, 'and it’s unlikely he’d meet anything along here.'

'He met us,’ Helen retorted, and he laughed.

'I’m wondering if you’re going to tell him what you think of his driving when you get back,’ he said. 'You sound as if you might.’

It was only a few minutes later that Owen stopped the car at the gates of Glyntarrach and came round to open her door and assist her from the rather low seat. She smiled her gratitude, brushing back her windblown hair from her face which was flushed with wind and sun to a golden pink which was most attractive. She smiled up at him as he helped her from the car. 'I’ve had a wonderful time, Owen, thank you.’

'
I wish I could see you again tomorrow,’ he told her regretfully. ‘I suppose there’s no chance?’

She shook her head, her eyes glistening with laughter. ‘Not a chance,’ she assured him.

'
Oh, well—’ he sighed. 'Next week, then, if that's the soonest you can manage.'

'
It is,’ she promised. ‘Much as I’d like to.'

‘I’d like to take you to Caderglynn,' he told her after a moment’s thought. 'I’m sure you’d like it.’

‘Caderglynn?’ she asked, tilting her head curiously. 'Who or where is Caderglynn ? Something very special?'

'In a way,' he admitted. ‘Caderglynn itself is a mountain, in fact, but it’s very lovely country all round there and there's something I’d like you to see if it happens to be going on when we get there.’

'
If that’s grammatical it sounds very interesting,' she laughed, ‘and I'm very intrigued.’

'
Good,’ he grinned. 'Perhaps it will encourage you to ask your dark master for another half day tomorrow.'

' I don't think I shall do that,' she demurred with a smile,
^#
but it would have been nice.'

'We'll take a picnic when we do go,' he told her, 'and sit and soak up lots of sunshine and fresh air and perhaps clear the cobwebs a bit, it would do us both good.'

'It's a wonderful idea,' she agreed, and glanced down at her wristwatch. 'Now I really must go, Owen, or Mr Davies will wonder where I've got to especially as he passed us along the road, if I'm too long he'll get quite the wrong ideas about me.'

He smiled at her, his grey eyes sparkling mischief. 'If he's going to
have
ideas like that,' he said, 'he'd better have something to base them on,' and before she realized his intention he bent his head and kissed her gently on her forehead. 'Goodbye, Helen. If you don't ring me to say that you've tackled Evan for another day off tomorrow, I'll be in touch with
you
.'

‘I won't have,' she laughed. 'I wouldn't dare!' She watched him turn the little car round and waved him off as he roared down the rough road back to Glyneath, then turned, rather regretfully, to walk up to the house. There was no sign of Evan Davies when she arrived, but the grey car still stood on the drive, waiting, she supposed, for Dai Hughes or one of the garden staff to put it away.