his feeling for her had
nothing of the passionate urgency with which he regarded Roddy or
Rachel. All tragedy--the depths and the heights of it--she had seen in
that dog's eyes, fixed with the deepest devotion upon Roddy.--"He
knows," she had often thought during the last week, "exactly what's the
matter with all of us."

He always slept, she knew, in a basket in Rachel's room, and she
wondered why he had been ejected. He sat now in the middle of the floor
and seemed deeply unhappy. He sat square with his legs spread out, his
hair hanging in melancholy locks over his eyes, his small beard giving a
last wistful touch to his expression. He did not look at Lizzie or show
any interest in her, he only stared before him at the pattern on the
wall.

Lizzie did not attempt to pat him--she went back to bed, and, lying
there, saw the light gather about the room.

Once Jacob sighed. Otherwise he made no movement until the maid came in
with Lizzie's tea--Then he crawled under the bed.

II

When she came down to breakfast she felt that she could not endure
another day of this place. She wished now for no revenge upon Rachel,
she had no longer any curiosity as to the particular feelings of any one
of these people for any other ... she felt detached from them all, and
utterly, absolutely weary.

She was weighed down with a sense of disaster and she felt that she
must, instantly, escape from it all, fling herself again into her London
work, deal with the tiresome commonplaces of her mother and sister--she
must escape.

Roddy was sitting alone at breakfast and she saw at once that he was
uneasy. He seemed to avoid her eyes and he coloured as she came towards
him.

"Mornin', Miss Rand," he said, "Rachel's not comin' down. Bit of
headache--rotten night."

"I didn't have a very good night either. That storm made me sleep
badly."

"Yes, wasn't it a corker? It's all right to-day though."

She looked through the wide high windows and saw out over a country
painted as in a delicate water-colour--The softest green and dark brown
lay beneath a pale blue sky, very still, very gentle. Tiny white puffs
of cloud were blown, like soap bubbles across the sun, so that bright
gleams floated and passed and flashed again.

She drew a deep breath--"Nothing terrifying in such a day as this."

"Yes, it's beautiful--beautiful! I'm off for the day," Roddy said,
"ridin'----"

She helped herself to some breakfast and sat down.

Roddy sai