he while Claire
had been packing upstairs, she had had time to realise Erskine's return,
and his reception of the news she would have to break. As she drove
away from the door, Claire realised that her hostess would have paid a
large sum down to have been able to undo that morning's work!

For her own part, Claire cared nothing either way: literally and
truthfully at that moment even the thought of leaving Erskine had no
power to wound. The quickly-following events of the last twenty-four
hours had had a numbing effect on her brain. She was miserable, sore,
and wounded; the whole fabric of life seemed tumbling to pieces. Love,
for the moment, was in abeyance. As the fly passed the last yard of
mown grass which marked the boundary of the Fanshawe property, she threw
out her arms with one of the expressive gestures, which remained with
her as a result of her foreign training. "_Fini_!" she cried aloud.
Mentally at that moment, she swept the Fanshawes, mother and son, from
the stage of her life.

Where should she go next? Back to solitude, and the saffron parlour?
London in August held no attraction, but the solitary prospect of being
able to see Sophie, and at the moment Claire shrank from Sophie's sharp
eyes. Should she telegraph to the farm, and ask how soon she could be
received; and at the same time telegraph to Mary Rhodes asking for an
immediate interview? A few minutes' reflection brought a decision in
favour of this plan, and she drew a pocket-book from her dressing-bag,
and busied herself in composing the messages. One to the farm, a second
to Laburnum Crescent announcing her immediate return, then came a pause,
to consider the difficult wording of the third. Would it be possible to
drop a word of warning, intelligible to Cecil herself, but meaningless
to anyone else who might by chance open the wire?

"Back in town. Have important news. Imperative to see you to-day, if
possible. Appoint meeting. Delay dangerous."

It was not perfect, but in Claire's dazed condition it was the best she
could concoct, and it left a tactful uncertainty as to whether the news
affected herself or Cecil, which would make it the easier to explain.
Claire counted the words and folded the three messages in her hand-bag,
ready to be sent off the moment she reached the station.

The fly lumbered on; up a toilsome hill, down into the valley, up
another hill on the farther side; then came a scattering of houses, a
church,