tingale.
We could go down into the garden under the trees. If you're game. How
splendid of you! ... Yes, I'll wait below .... Outside, under your
window."

Before Mrs. Payne could pull herself together she heard his steps
returning. She closed the door fearfully. He came along the passage
and stopped for a moment just outside her room. There was nothing
between them but an oak door, so thin, she felt, that he must surely
hear her anxious breath. She dared not breathe, but in a moment he
passed by.

Why had he stopped outside her door? What curious filial instinct had
made him think of her at that moment? Had he thought kindly, or only
perhaps suspiciously, wondering if she were safely asleep? She
couldn't tell. Her mind was too full of disturbing emotions to allow
her to think. One thing emerged foremost from her confusion, a feeling
of devout thankfulness that her first fears had not been justified, and
as the dread of definite and paralysing defeat lifted from her mind,
she realised with a sudden exultation that chance had given her the
very opportunity for which she had been waiting and scheming. If she
went carefully she might see them together, alone and unsuspecting, and
know for certain by their behaviour how far matters had gone.

She dared not switch on the light or strike a match for fear that her
windows might become conspicuous. Very gently she released one of the
blinds, admitting the light of the luminous sky. She dressed
hurriedly, catching sight of her figure in the long pier glass as she
pulled on her stockings. For the moment it struck her as faintly
ludicrous to see this middle-aged woman in a long white nightdress
behaving like a creature in a detective story. It was extravagant.
People of her age and figure and general sobriety didn't do this sort
of thing in real life. But the seriousness of her mission recalled
her, and while she had been considering the picturesque aspects of the
case she found that she had actually, unconsciously dressed ... and
only just in time, for now she heard the lighter step of Gabrielle in
the passage.

The sound gave her a sudden flush of anger. She wanted, there and
then, to open her door and ask Gabrielle where she was going. It was
tantalising to let the thing go on and hold her hand. She clutched on
to the foot of the bed to save herself from doing anything so rash.
Gabrielle's steps passed, and the house was quiet again. The most
diffic