n surprise. "Won't you dine with me?"

"No," he said restlessly. "I won't come in. I should stifle under a roof
to-night."

"But we will dine outside," she said.

He shook his head. "No, I'm going. Anne," he caught her hand to his lips,
"I hate leaving you. How long must I be condemned to it?"

She touched his shoulder with her cheek. "Don't you know that I hate it
too?" she said.

"Then--" He put his arm round her.

"Next week, Nap," she said.

"You mean it?"

"Yes. I mean it."

"You will marry me next week. What day?"

"Any day," she said, with her face against his shoulder.

"Any day, Anne? You mean that? You mean me to choose?"

She laughed softly. "I shall leave everything to you."

"Then I choose Sunday," Nap said, without an instant's consideration, "as
early in the morning as possible. I shall go straight to the padre and
arrange it right now."

"Very well," she said. "I'll try to be ready."

He threw up his head with the old arrogant gesture. "You must be ready,"
he said imperiously. "I shall come and fetch you myself."

She laughed again at that. "Indeed you will not. I shall go with
Mrs. Errol."

He conceded this point, albeit grudgingly. "And afterwards?" he said.

"The afterwards shall be yours, dear," she answered.

"You mean that?"

"Of course I mean it."

"Then, Anne"--he bent his face suddenly, his lips moved against her
forehead--"will you come with me to Bramhurst?"

"Bramhurst!" She started a little. The name to her was no more than a
bitter memory among the many other bitter memories of her life.

"Will you?" he said.

"If you wish it," she answered gently.

"I do wish it."

"Then--so be it," she said.

He bent his head a little lower, kissed her twice passionately upon the
lips, held her awhile as if he could not bear to let her go, then tore
himself almost violently from her, and went away, swift and noiseless as
a shadow over the grass.

CHAPTER XXI

THE POWER THAT CASTS OUT DEVILS

It was late on the evening of her wedding-day that Anne entered once
more the drawing-room of the little inn at Bramhurst and stopped by the
open window.

There was a scent of musk in the room behind her, and an odour infinitely
more alluring of roses and honeysuckle in the garden in front. Beyond the
garden the common lay in the rosy dusk of the afterglow under a deep blue
sky. The clang of a distant cow-bell came dreamily through the silence.

She stood leaning aga