particular about what a girl might not do and had not moved at
all with the times in that respect. But of course everything had been
altered since Richard Dawson's coming; and she only said to him not to
keep me out too late as I was not over-strong.

I had thought we were going to walk, but when we had gone a little way
down the avenue I saw drawn up to one side a very smart motor-brougham
with a smart chauffeur on the box, and I wondered whose it might be.

"It is for you, darling," my lover replied. "Do you not like it, Bawn?
It is a surprise for you."

I wished I could have thanked him better; but nothing gave me any
pleasure. He put me in and tucked me up in a warm rug. It was, indeed, a
most luxurious carriage, and it went like the wind.

"You give me too much," I said for the thousandth time.

"And you give me too little," he answered. "I suppose you think that is
how to keep me. But I should love you just as much--I could not love you
more--if you would be warmer to me."

As we went along at a speed which made the familiar roads oddly strange,
all the landmarks being slurred by the speed, I looked from one side of
the road to the other.

My mind was full of Anthony Cardew's messenger, the one he was so sure
would break the web of lies in pieces. I said to myself that of course
he could not come in time and that if he could come it would be useless.
Even Anthony himself could have done nothing, since the secret was not
one that we could bring into the open. Still, the air seemed full of
expectation. We met very few vehicles, very few foot passengers, but at
those we did meet I looked eagerly. He had been very sure that his
messenger would arrive in time. And while I thrilled to that sense of
expectation I felt guilty towards the man at my side, who was so
generous a lover. Even now his nearness to me in the carriage that was
his gift filled me with repulsion and a forlorn, shameful sense, as
though I had been the wife of one man and had been given to another.

The Cottage and its grounds were enclosed within a high wall. There was
a little gravel sweep running round in front of the hall door; but we
left the carriage outside the green gates. Within, it was the completest
thing, and I had delighted in it when old Miss Verschoyle had lived
there with a companion and a cat, a dog, and a cageful of canaries. The
Cottage was covered by a trellis. There were half a dozen steps to the
hall door, and a window at