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“Quite clear,” Rosamund said steadily, thankful that at last her aunt understood that she must accept the situation.

But Ruth hadn’t finished yet. Deliberately she looked Rosamund over from head to foot; a look that took in tousled hair and smudged face, bare suntanned legs and work-stained hands. A look that made Rosamund feel as if something in her had withered and left her defenceless.

“You arrant little fool!” Ruth said, the very softness of her voice making it all the more venomous. “I can almost find it in my heart to be sorry for you—but not quite! Your hypocrisy revolts me too much for that!”

“I’m not a hypocrite,” Rosamund was stung into protesting.

“No? Then how would you describe someone who doesn’t practise what they preach?” Ruth said contemptuously. “All this talk of yours about loyalty and honesty—it means absolutely nothing! It’s no more than an excuse for your selfishness—”

Rosamund’s heart sank. She had been too quick to imagine that she’d won the battle. She should have known that Aunt Ruth didn’t give up so easily! What was more, what was coming now was going to be more difficult to combat than anything that had gone before. Instinctively Rosamund braced herself and deliberately took the war into the enemy’s country.

“As your employee I’ve always been completely loyal to your interests, Aunt Ruth,” she said steadily. “Though, as you know quite well, I’ve wanted to stop working for you for some time. Even so, perhaps I should have given you formal notice that I was leaving—or else have forfeited a month’s salary. But as you haven’t paid me yet for the last two months, I don’t really think you have much cause for complaint on that score! ”

Inwardly Ruth raged at being put in the wrong in this way and knowing that there was little if anything that she could say in her own defence, promptly changed her tactics.

“I consider that a very debatable statement,” she declared with a dismissive gesture of her hand. “What I was thinking of is our personal relationship. I wonder—” she paused and seemed to consider what she was about to say very carefully. Then, with added emphasis, she went on: “Yes, I do indeed wonder, Rosamund, if you realise just how much you have cost me in happiness as well as in money! ”

Rosamund, out of her depth, stared at her aunt dumbly. She had never known just how it had come about that Aunt Ruth was her guardian, for the few questions she had found the courage to ask were invariably ignored. Now, it appeared, she was going to be told—

“Your mother died when you were only a few months old,” went on the cold, relentless voice. “She died completely penniless. I had the choice of putting you into a Home or looking after you myself. Like a fool, that was what I did. It wasn’t easy. At that time I was earning only a small salary. I’d never been able to afford more than just about the bare necessities of life. Now I had to provide for you as well. Not just ordinary expenses, I mean. I had to pay someone to look after you so that I could work. I soon found that I couldn’t make ends meet. So I worked harder. I took on an evening job as well as my day’s work—”

The short, staccato sentences beat like hail on Rosamund’s brain and by their very brevity, brought conviction. She swallowed convulsively, unable to speak, waiting for what was still to come. And Ruth, quick to see that she was making an impression, invented a story on the spur of the moment which, she was sure, would tip the scales in her favour.

“Then I met a man who wanted me to marry him. But, as his wife, I’d have to travel all over the world with him, never staying more than a few months in any one place. So I refused him. Not on my own account. I’d have enjoyed that sort of life. But for
your
sake, Rosamund. You needed a settled home and I decided that it was my duty—” Momentarily her face was convulsed with an expression which was an extraordinary mixture of bitterness and triumph. “-So I gave up my chance of happiness.”

“I—I’m very sorry, Aunt Ruth,” Rosamund whispered. “I had no idea—”

“I didn’t want you to have,” Ruth told her bleakly. “I made the decision, not you. But I had thought that the natural affection you would surely have for me would make a sufficiently strong bond between us to repay me for what I had sacrificed. However—” she shrugged her shoulders in a fatalistic gesture— “it seems that I was wrong!”

Rosamund felt as if actual prison bars were closing round her. Her hands came up in an instinctively defensive movement as if to hold them off. Then she asked the question which she had never before found the courage to ask.

“My—my father?” she spoke the unfamiliar word with difficulty. “Am I—am I illegitimate?”

For the briefest moment Ruth hesitated. Then she shook her head.

“No. Your parents were married. But that made no difference. Your father deserted your mother less than a year after they were married. I believe he went abroad— certainly she never heard from him again.”

“But he knew about me coming?” Rosamund whispered.

“To my certain knowledge, your mother wrote several times to tell him of your birth. I know that because I posted the letters myself.”

“I—see.” Rosamund’s hands dropped limply to her sides. “Is—is he still alive?”

So Rob hadn’t told her that he was her father!

“So far as I know he is,” she shrugged indifferently, “But I haven’t set eyes on him since he left your mother.”

She held her breath. Had she worn Rosamund’s resistance down to breaking point or were there to be any more awkward questions?

Apparently not. Rosamund’s whole body seemed to sag and her wide eyes held the haunted look of a bird mesmerised by a snake.

“Well?” Ruth asked. “Now that you know the truth, are you going to repay the debt you owe me or do you prefer to admit that you
are
a wretched little hypocrite? It’s up to you!”

“I—I—” Rosamund moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

“Rosamund! Hi, Rosamund, where are you?”

At the sound of John’s voice hailing her blithely from the towpath, Rosamund came to life. She darted across the little deck and the narrow gangplank, straight into John’s arms, and as they closed protectingly round her, she clung to him, sobbing like a frightened child.

“Darling, darling, what is it?” he asked urgently, and then, realising that she was beyond speech, his arms tightened. “Listen, Rosamund, listen! Whatever is wrong, you’re safe now! I’ll see to that! But try to tell me—”

Rosamund was still shaking violently, but she made a valiant attempt to control herself.

“My—my aunt,” she whispered. “She—she’s been trying to make me go back to London with her—and I can’t, John, I can’t!”

“Then you shan’t, sweetheart,” John told her matter-of-factly. “Come along and we’ll tell her so!”

But Ruth had followed Rosamund and now, from the slight advantage of the gangplank, she looked down at them, her calm apparently unruffled.

“For your own sake, young man, I really do advise you not to interfere,” she said coolly. “Rosamund is a very naughty girl, you know!”

Rosamund felt John stiffen.

“No, madam, I know nothing of the sort,” he retorted coldly. “And please don’t trouble further to convince me that you’re right. It won’t get you anywhere.”

Ruth sighed and shook her head.

“How persuasive a pretty face can be!” she mocked. “Even when it could do with a good wash! Now, do be sensible! I know my niece better—” and bit her lip as she saw John’s face harden. Stupid of her to make the mistake of trying to ridicule him in his own eyes! Clearly he had far too good an opinion of himself for that to produce results. “I don’t think you understand the situation, Mr.—?”

“John Lindsay,” John supplied automatically.

Ruth bent her head graciously.

“Mr. Lindsay. Thank you. As I was saying, I don’t think you understand the situation. Rosamund has behaved very foolishly and inconsiderately. Indeed, most people would say that I’m being extremely silly in giving her another chance. However, that’s just what I am doing! I’m willing to overlook—”

“No!” Rosamund said breathlessly. “No,
no
!”

Ruth felt a sudden stab of pain. Her air of patience, so deliberately assumed, snapped abruptly.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Rosamund, stop this nonsense! Of course you’re coming back with me
—now
!”

“No,” John told her very quietly. “She’s doing nothing of the sort. Rosamund is of age. Consequently she has the right to make her own decisions. That is definite and final!”

Ruth glared at him.

“If you don’t stop interfering—” she threatened.

“But I have every right to interfere,” John assured her a
convincingly vibrant note in his voice. “Rosamund and I are engaged. Now do you understand? We’re going to be married! ”

Ruth had gone, but not before she had fired a parting shot. To Rosamund she enlarged on her earlier threat.

“From now on, no matter what sort of trouble you get yourself into, don’t expect that I’m going to help you out! Do you understand? I’ve finished with you !”

To John she spoke with pitying contempt.

"You don’t, of course, know what you’re taking on, Mr. Lindsay. Well, you’ll find out! Because Rosamund won’t remain satisfied with love in a cottage—or on a barge—for very long. She’ll soon be whining for the comfort and luxury she’s always been used to when the initial glamour wears off, as it always does. A pity you’re not a rich man, you know. If you were, your marriage could well be a success. As it is—” she shook her head. “Not a chance! Not, of course, that in your present besotted state you believe that. But remember, you have been warned!”

Over Rosamund’s bent head John watched Ruth walk slowly along the towpath to vanish through the gate in the hedge. There was a peculiar expression in his eyes, part apprehension, but to a far greater degree of determination. But when Rosamund lifted her head from his shoulder, she saw nothing but kindness and strength there.

Tentatively she sought to free herself and instantly John let her go.

“Well, that’s that!” he announced cheerfully, and then, as Rosamund didn’t reply, he went on matter-of-factly: “I suggest that we indulge ourselves in Miss Alice’s inevitable panaceas for all ills—a cup of tea! After that we’ll talk things over.”

Suddenly tongue-tied now that she and John were alone, Rosamund nodded in silence and ran quickly up the gangplank.

“I’ll just tidy up first—” she said breathlessly, and hurried to her cabin.

Quickly she washed her face and hands, combed her hair and then stood hesitating over the choice of a dress. Not that there was a very large or inspiring selection. But there was one dress, a bluish-green which she knew suited her fair colouring better than anything else she had. Usually she kept it for special occasions—well, wasn’t this a
very
special occasion? Of all times, didn’t she want to look her very best?

She slipped into the dress, slid her feet into more attractive sandals and then, all ready to face up to John, she suddenly lost her self-confidence.

John had told Aunt Ruth that they were going to be married, but had he really meant it? Wasn’t it much more likely that he had said it on the spur of the moment because he realised that it was the one argument which would checkmate Aunt Ruth?

She drew a deep breath. She knew that she loved John, but not that he loved her, and just because he’d come to her rescue so unhesitatingly didn’t mean that she had any right to keep him to his word. She’d got to make him understand that—it was only fair.

She walked through to the galley and found John already there, just about to pour boiling water into the teapot. He looked up with a grin as she came in.

“I’m quite domesticated, these days,” he remarked proudly. “Pop up on to the deck and I’ll bring the tray.”

Rosamund understood. That light, easy manner was, she felt sure, meant to put her at her ease, but it had the reverse effect. To her it meant just one thing—that without embarrassing her by putting it into words, John was telling her that there was nothing for her to worry about—that nothing that had happened need be taken seriously.

They drank their tea in a silence which seemed to Rosamund to grow more oppressive with every passing moment, yet it was beyond her power to break it. But John, though not exactly scowling, certainly looked worried. Supposing that he had already guessed that she loved him! She
must
take the initiative—

“Another cup?” John asked abruptly, and when she refused: “Then shall we talk things over?” he suggested.

“John—” She saw that he looked taken aback at her urgency and it needed all her courage to go on. “Before you say anything, I want to tell you that I—I think it was quite wonderful of you to come to my rescue the way you did, but of course, I quite understand—”

“Just what do you understand?” John asked grimly.

“Why, that you—you only said—what you did to stop Aunt Ruth—”

“Now, let’s get this straight,” John insisted. “Do you mean that you think I said that we were going to get married simply to get the better of that objectionable aunt of yours?”

“Yes,” Rosamund said miserably. Then, with suddenly upflung head: “Yes, of course,” she told him resolutely.

In one swift, decisive movement John stood up, scooped her from her chair and held her so close that she could feel the pounding of his heart. His lips sought and captured hers with ruthless, passionate fervour.

“You little idiot, does that suggest that I was pretending?” he demanded savagely. “Does it? Or this—?”

Again his mouth claimed hers, and stirred to the very depths of her being, Rosamund knew that her dreams had come true. John loved her! She need not be afraid to show her own love—

Time stood still for them—

“And now,” John said at last in a voice shaken with feeling, “will you kindly tell me why you did your best to scare the daylights out of me? Do you know you almost convinced me that—you didn’t care?”