he sound of his steps. Presently he came to a spot from which
he could see the pool. Ethel was sitting on the bank, looking down at
the water. She sat quite still. It seemed as though the water drew her
irresistibly. He wondered what strange thoughts wandered through her
head. At last she got up, and for a minute or two she was hidden from
his gaze; then he saw her again, wearing a Mother Hubbard, and with her
little bare feet she stepped delicately over the mossy bank. She came to
the water's edge, and softly, without a splash, let herself down. She
swam about quietly, and there was something not quite of a human being
in the way she swam. He did not know why it affected him so queerly. He
waited till she clambered out. She stood for a moment with the wet folds
of her dress clinging to her body, so that its shape was outlined, and
then, passing her hands slowly over her breasts, gave a little sigh of
delight. Then she disappeared. Lawson turned away and walked back to the
village. He had a bitter pain in his heart, for he knew that she was
still a stranger to him and his hungry love was destined ever to remain
unsatisfied.

He did not make any mention of what he had seen. He ignored the incident
completely, but he looked at her curiously, trying to divine what was in
her mind. He redoubled the tenderness with which he used her. He sought
to make her forget the deep longing of her soul by the passion of his
love.

Then one day, when he came home, he was astonished to find her not in
the house.

"Where's Mrs Lawson?" he asked the maid.

"She went into Aberdeen, Sir, with the baby," the maid answered, a
little surprised at the question. "She said she would not be back till
the last train."

"Oh, all right."

He was vexed that Ethel had said nothing to him about the excursion, but
he was not disturbed, since of late she had been in now and again to
Aberdeen, and he was glad that she should look at the shops and perhaps
visit a cinema. He went to meet the last train, but when she did not
come he grew suddenly frightened. He went up to the bedroom and saw at
once that her toilet things were no longer in their place. He opened the
wardrobe and the drawers. They were half empty. She had bolted.

He was seized with a passion of anger. It was too late that night to
telephone to Aberdeen and make enquiries, but he knew already all that
his enquiries might have taught him. With fiendish cunning she had
chosen a time when