There were two subjects which irritated the mind of Margaret Belman as the Southern Express carried her toward Selford Junction and the branch line train which crawled from the junction to Siltbury. The first of these was, not unnaturally, the drastic changes she now contemplated, the second the effect they already had had upon Mr. J. G. Reeder, that mild and middle-aged man. When she had announced that she was seeking a post in the country, he might at least have shown some evidence of regret; a certain glumness would have been appropriate, at any rate. Instead, he had brightened visibly at the prospect. "I am afraid I shan't be able to come to London very often," she had said. "That is good news," said Mr. Reeder, and added some banality about the value of periodical changes of air and the beauty of getting near to nature. In fact, he had been more cheerful than he had been for a week-which was rather exasperating. Margaret Belman's pretty face puckered as she recalled her disappointment and chagrin. All thoughts of dropping this application of hers disappeared. Not that she imagined for one moment that a six-hundred-a-year secretaryship was going to drop into her lap for the mere asking. She was wholly unsuited to the job; she had had no experience in hotel work; and the chances of her being accepted were remote. As to the Italian who had made so many attempts to make her acquaintance-he was one of the unpleasant commonplaces so familiar to a girl who worked for her living that in ordinary circumstances she would not have given him a second thought.