t hers. She felt herself
held closely in his arms; her will dissolved, her head drooped against
him.

Then inside the house the steps of the faithful Morson could be heard.
He must have been waiting for the sound of an approaching motor. The
door opened--letting a great patch of yellow lamp light fall on the
misty moonlight. Morson peered out; for a moment he thought he must have
been mistaken; there appeared to be no one there. Then his young
mistress, very erect, stepped out from the shadow. A tall gentleman, a
stranger to Morson, said in a voice noticeably low and vibrant:

"At four to-morrow."

There was a pause. Morson holding the door open thought at first that
Miss Thorne had not heard, and then she shocked him by her answer.

"No, don't come," she said. "I don't want you to come." She walked into
the house, and indicated that he might shut the door. As he bolted it he
could hear the motor moving away down the drive. Turning from the door,
he saw Miss Thorne standing still in the middle of the hall, as if she
too were listening to the lessening drum of the engine. There was a long
pause, and then Morson said:

"Shall I put out the lights, Miss?"

She nodded and went slowly upstairs, like a person in a trance.

She seemed hardly aware of Evans waiting to undress her, but stood still
in her bedroom, as she had stood in the hall, staring blankly in front
of her. Evans took her cloak from her shoulder.

"It's quite wet, Miss," she said, "as if it had been dipped in the sea
and your hair, too."

Miss Thorne did not come to life, until in unhooking her dress Evans
touched her with cold fingers. Then she started, exclaiming:

"What is the matter with you, Evans," she cried. "Do go and put your
hands in hot water before you touch me. Your fingers are like ice."

The girl murmured that she had been upset since the loss of the
bracelet--she felt responsible for Miss Thorne's jewels.

Lydia flung down the roll of bills and cheques that represented her
evening's winnings. "I could buy myself another with what I've won
to-night. Don't worry about it." The idea occurred to her that she
would buy herself a sort of memento mori, something to remind her not to
be a weak craven female thing again--nestling against men's shoulders
like May Swayne.

Evans did not answer, but gathered up the money and the jewels and
carried them into the dressing room to lock them in the safe.

CHAPTER IV

Lydia would have