im; to forgive, to be forgiven, about some sweet bit of lover's
folly, the dearer for its very foolishness. She listens for her
footsteps as she returns along the corridor, dressed no doubt in her
prettiest gown, decked out to make herself fair in his eyes.

An overwhelming desire to see how she has robed herself on this
particular occasion induces Florence to go to the door and look after
her as she descends the stairs. She just catches a glimpse of Dora as
she turns the corner, and sees, to her surprise, that she is by no means
daintily attired, but has thrown a plain dark water-proof over her
dress, as though to hide it. Slightly surprised at this, Florence
ponders it, and finally comes to the bitter conclusion that Dora is so
sure of his devotion that she knows it is not necessary for her to
bedeck herself in finery to please him. In his eyes of course she is
lovely in any toilet.

Soon, soon she will be with him. How will they greet each other? Will he
look into Dora's eyes as he used to look into hers not so very long ago?
Arthur Dynecourt read her aright when he foresaw that she would be
unable to repress the desire to follow Dora, and see for herself the
meeting between her and Sir Adrian.

Hastily putting on a large Rubens hat, and twisting a soft piece of
black lace round her neck, she runs down-stairs and, taking a different
direction from that she knows Dora most likely pursued, she arrives by
a side path at the lime-walk almost as soon as her cousin.

Afraid to venture too near, she obtains a view of the walk from a high
position framed in by rhododendrons. Yes, now she can see Dora, and now
she can see too, the man who comes eagerly to meet her. His face is
slightly turned away from her, but the tall figure clad in the loose
light overcoat is not to be mistaken. He advances quickly, and meets
Dora with both hands outstretched. She appears to draw back a little,
and then he seizes her hands, and, stooping, covers them with kisses.

A film seems to creep over Florence's eyes. With a stifled groan, she
turns and flies homeward. Again in the privacy of her own room, and
having turned the key securely in the lock to keep out all intruders,
she flings herself upon her bed and cries as if her heart would break.

* * * * *

Not until her return to her room does Dora remember that she did not get
back the false letter from her cousin. In the heat of the conversation
she had for