turned and
vanished into the shadows.

When the sound of his footsteps had died away and all was silence, Toni
shivered with a feeling of deadly chill.

Leonard Dowson's appearance, following so closely on Eva Herrick's
suggestions, had given her a queer, eerie sensation of awe, as though
some inexorable fate were pointing out to her a way of escape from the
situation she was beginning to find intolerable. She never doubted the
man's affection for her; and she fully believed that he would indeed die
in her service. And the very touch of fanaticism in her love for Owen,
which made her feel that it would be a small thing indeed to die for him
if by dying she might give him happiness, helped her to realize the
strength of the pallid, unromantic young dentist's devotion.

True, Toni was too innately sensible a person--perhaps it would be
fairer to say her love of life and its "sweet things" was too strong--to
allow her to contemplate death as a solution of the problem of her
unsuccessful marriage.

She understood, too, with a queer flash of spiritual insight which was
foreign to her usual simple vision, that her death would bring Owen only
a great sorrow; and in her darkest moments she never dreamed of courting
death.

A sudden bark from Jock made her start; and looking round she found Owen
almost at her elbow. He had dismissed his taxi at the gate, and was
walking briskly up the dark avenue, when Jock's vociferous welcome broke
the night silence and brought him to a halt.

"Hallo, old boy, what are you doing here? That you, Andrews?"

Toni moved forward from the shadow, and beneath the dark cloak which had
deceived him he caught the pale glimmer of her skirt.

"No, Owen. It is I, Toni."

"You? Why, what are you doing here? Oh, I see--you brought Jock for a
run. Well, it's quite warm to-night--but the air has the feel of rain."

"Yes. I thought I felt a drop just now."

"Did you? Well, we'll get indoors. I'm sorry I am so late, dear, but
there's been trouble at the office. Oh, nothing much, only Hart, our new
sub-editor, had chosen to return an article we'd commissioned, because
he said it was not up to our usual level."

"And wasn't it?" Toni's forlorn heart welcomed his friendly tone.

"Of course it was. It was about the best stuff young Lewis had ever
turned out--and a fool like Hart, whose taste is distinctly precious,
hasn't the wit to appreciate good, clean, straightforward English. He
likes a mass of