her mouth seemed to have dissolved, and its sweetness had become almost
pathetic. There were signs of a great weariness about her. The fingers
which reached out for the little speaking-tube seemed to have become
thinner.

"Take the turn to the left, John," she instructed, "the one to Bay Shore.
Go slowly by the lake and stop where I tell you."

They left the main road and travelled for some distance along a lane
which, with its bramble-grown fences and meadows beyond, was curiously
reminiscent of England. They passed a country house, built of the wood
which was still a little unfamiliar to Philip, but wonderfully homelike
with its cluster of outbuildings, its trim lawns, and the turret clock
over the stable entrance. Then, through the leaves of an avenue of elms,
they caught occasional glimpses of the blue waters of the lake, which
they presently skirted. Elizabeth's eyes travelled over its placid
surface idly, yet with a sense of passive satisfaction. In a few minutes
they passed into the heart of a little wood, and she leaned forward.

"Stop here, close to the side of the road, John. Stop your engine,
please, and go and sit by the lake."

The man obeyed at once with the unquestioning readiness of one used to
his mistress' whims. For several minutes she remained silent. She had the
air of one drinking in with almost passionate eagerness the sedative
effect of the stillness, the soft spring air, the musical country sounds,
the ripple of the breeze in the trees, the humming of insects, the soft
splash of the lake against the stony shore. Philip himself was awakened
into a peculiar sense of pleasure by this, almost his first glimpse of
the country since his arrival in New York. A host of half forgotten
sensations warmed his heart. He felt suddenly intensely sympathetic,
perhaps more genuinely tender than he had ever felt before towards the
woman by his side, whose hour of suffering it was. His hand slipped under
the rug and held her fingers, which clutched his in instantaneous
response. Her lips seemed unlocked by his slight action.

"I came here alone two years ago," she told him, "and since then often,
sometimes to study a difficult part, sometimes only to think. One
moment."

She released her fingers from his, drew out the hatpins from her hat,
unwound the veil and threw them both on to the opposite seat. Then she
laid her hands upon her forehead as though to cool it. The little breeze
from the lake rippled thro