h whose beneficent gaze the ogre
was--for the time--vanquished and impotent.

The bay was full of craft, as usual. Big liners, tramp steamers, a grey
battleship or two, looked scornfully down on the little Italian boats,
some piled high with yellow fruit, others less imposing, little pleasure
craft manned by youthful boatmen with swarthy brown faces and ears
ornamented with huge golden rings.

Land and sea alike smiled in the glorious sunshine. It was a day on
which life seemed a very sweet and desirable opportunity; but in Toni's
face there was no hint of gladness, none of her former almost pagan
delight in the beautiful out-of-door world around her.

Although her skin was delicately warmed and coloured by the genial
Southern sun, the becoming tan could not hide the thinness of the once
rounded cheeks, nor disguise the hopeless droop of the lips which had
been used to smile so readily. Toni looked, indeed, the ghost of her
former self as she sat gazing out over the Mediterranean; and it was
very evident that whatever had been the result of her flight to those
she had left behind, her own happiness had suffered a disastrous
eclipse.

After all, her disappearance had been easily arranged. On that foggy
night when she had fled from Leonard Dowson, terrified by the spectre of
a future life which his words had evoked, she had run, without in the
least realizing her direction, straight to the railway station; and the
idea of London had at once presented itself to her mind. A train was
just starting, and Toni hastily took a ticket and jumped into a carriage
without giving herself time to think.

Arriving at the terminus she had a momentary indecision as to her next
step. As she stood on the platform she felt herself to be desperately,
hopelessly alone; and for one wild moment she wondered how Owen would
receive her if she went back and flung herself on his mercy.

But something in her, perhaps the sturdy, independent blood of her
Yorkshire ancestors, seemed to forbid such a course. She could not
return, creep back to the shelter of the home she had abandoned; and
even Toni's youthful optimism could not promise her a very hearty
welcome when the truth of her flight should be known.

If only she had gone alone ... if there had been no man in the case to
complicate matters and compromise the situation--in that first moment of
despair Toni hated Leonard Dowson, loathed herself for imagining it
would be possible to go away