Celia's House by D. E. Stevenson Page A

can look her best without any front teeth, you know.”
    â€œOf course not,” agreed Humphrey. He was still feeling “wandered.” It seemed so odd to be sitting here on the terrace, with Alice, discussing children’s teeth and hair. At the same hour yesterday Humphrey had been standing on the bridge of his destroyer conning her into port. He remembered that someone had brought him a cup of tea—a large thick cup full of bright brown tea—and he had drunk it as he stood there, and been very glad of it. Of course teeth and hair were very important, especially girls’ teeth and hair (thought Humphrey vaguely), because, later on, good teeth and hair would help them to obtain good husbands.
    â€œWhat are you thinking about?” Alice inquired.
    â€œI can’t provide for the girls,” said Humphrey—for this was the point to which his thought had brought him.
    â€œThey will marry, of course,” Alice said comfortably.

Chapter Twelve
Celia
    Of all the hours in the day, the one Humphrey most enjoyed was when Alice had gone up to bed and he was left alone to sit quietly by the drawing room fire with his pipe and his book. It was then that he had time to appreciate the peace that enveloped Dunnian; it was then that he could look around the beautifully proportioned room and take pleasure in the fact that it was his. When he was at sea, when he was keeping watch, this was the hour he remembered and for which he was homesick. He was very fond of Alice and the children and enjoyed their company, but his greatest happiness, and peace of the soul, came to him when he was alone.
    On this, his first night of leave, he felt the perfection of the hour more keenly than ever. (Someday he would retire and come to live at Dunnian, and there would be no more comings and goings, but, although he envisaged that time with a good deal of pleasure, he was aware that something would be lost. He would not appreciate Dunnian so much if he lived here all the while. It was the comings and goings that heightened his perception; it was the odd juxtaposition of the two different lives that made Dunnian seem so wonderful.) The windows stood wide open and it was almost dark outside—as dark as it ever is in June. A fire had been lit and a log of wood flamed fitfully on its bed of red ashes. It was all perfect. Humphrey raised his eyes and saw a star, faintly twinkling, and he remembered that Aunt Celia had sat here night after night watching for the first star.
    Ten minutes more—just one last cigarette—and then he must go upstairs to bed, thought Humphrey. Ten minutes more…
    He was just lighting the cigarette when he heard Alice calling him, and there was such urgency in her voice that he flung the cigarette into the fire and ran for his life. He took the stairs three steps at a time and found Alice standing on the landing in her nightdress.
    Humphrey had expected to find her in bed—he had thought of all sorts of contingencies during his mad rush upstairs—but Alice seemed all right, neither frightened nor very much perturbed.
    â€œSomebody came in,” Alice said with a puzzled air.
    â€œCame into your room?”
    â€œYes. I thought at first it was Nannie, but it wasn’t Nannie; it wasn’t Becky either.”
    â€œYou were dreaming, darling,” said Humphrey, putting his arm around her shoulders and leading her back to bed.
    â€œBut I wasn’t asleep, Humphrey,” she replied. “How could I have been dreaming when I wasn’t asleep? I had only just gotten into bed and lain down. I was going to read for a little while…and then, all at once, I had a feeling that someone had come into the room, and when I looked up I saw her.”
    â€œWho was it?”
    â€œI don’t know, darling. It was nobody I had ever seen before.”
    She was speaking so calmly and naturally that only an anxious husband could have felt any apprehension, but