e disturbing
duality of the impression. Suddenly Owen broke off with a crash of
chords and jumped to his feet.

"What's the use of this, with such a moon to say it for us?"

Behind the uncurtained window a low golden orb hung like a ripe fruit
against the glass.

"Yes--let's go out and listen," Anna answered. Owen threw open the
window, and with his gesture a fold of the heavy star-sprinkled sky
seemed to droop into the room like a drawn-in curtain. The air that
entered with it had a frosty edge, and Anna bade Effie run to the hall
for wraps.

Darrow said: "You must have one too," and started toward the door;
but Sophy, following her pupil, cried back: "We'll bring things for
everybody."

Owen had followed her, and in a moment the three reappeared, and the
party went out on the terrace. The deep blue purity of the night was
unveiled by mist, and the moonlight rimmed the edges of the trees with
a silver blur and blanched to unnatural whiteness the statues against
their walls of shade.

Darrow and Anna, with Effie between them, strolled to the farther corner
of the terrace. Below them, between the fringes of the park, the lawn
sloped dimly to the fields above the river. For a few minutes they stood
silently side by side, touched to peace beneath the trembling beauty of
the sky. When they turned back, Darrow saw that Owen and Sophy Viner,
who had gone down the steps to the garden, were also walking in the
direction of the house. As they advanced, Sophy paused in a patch of
moonlight, between the sharp shadows of the yews, and Darrow noticed
that she had thrown over her shoulders a long cloak of some light
colour, which suddenly evoked her image as she had entered the
restaurant at his side on the night of their first dinner in Paris. A
moment later they were all together again on the terrace, and when they
re-entered the drawing-room the older ladies were on their way to bed.

Effie, emboldened by the privileges of the evening, was for coaxing Owen
to round it off with a game of forfeits or some such reckless climax;
but Sophy, resuming her professional role, sounded the summons to bed.
In her pupil's wake she made her round of good-nights; but when she
proffered her hand to Anna, the latter ignoring the gesture held out
both arms.

"Good-night, dear child," she said impulsively, and drew the girl to her
kiss.

BOOK IV

XXIII

The next day was Darrow's last at Givre and, foreseeing that the
a