ate.... But, somehow, everything comes late to me--even love, and its
lesser lore and its wisdom and its cunning. So, if I ever seem
indifferent--don't doubt me, Clive.... Good night."

* * * * *

When she had entered her room and closed the door he went downstairs,
swiftly, let himself out of the house, and moved straight toward the
garden.

Neither of the men seemed very greatly surprised; both retreated with
docile alacrity across the lawn to the driveway gate.

"Anyway," said the taller man, good-humouredly, "you've got to hand it
to us, Mr. Bailey. I guess we pinch the goods on you all right this
time. What about it?"

But Clive silently locked the outer gates, then turned and stared at
the shadowy house as though it had suddenly crumbled into ruins there
under the July moon.

CHAPTER XXIV

A fine lace-work of mist lay over the salt meadows; the fairy trilling
of the little owl had ceased. Marsh-fowl were sleepily astir; the last
firefly floated low into the shrouded bushes and its lamp glimmered a
moment and went out.

Where the east was growing grey long lines of wild-ducks went
stringing out to sea; a few birds sang loudly in meadows still
obscure; cattle in foggy upland pastures were awake.

When the first cock-crow rang, cow-bells had been clanking for an hour
or more; the rising sun turned land and sea to palest gold; every
hedge and thicket became noisy with birds; bay-men stepped spars and
hoisted sail, and their long sweeps dripped liquid fire as they pulled
away into the blinding glory of the east.

And Clive rose wearily from his window chair, care-worn and haggard,
with nothing determined, nothing solved of this new and imminent peril
which was already menacing Athalie with disgrace and threatening him
with that unwholesome notoriety which men usually survive but under
which a woman droops and perishes.

He bathed, dressed again, dully uneasy in the garments of yesterday,
uncomfortable for lack of fresh linen and toilet requisites; little
things indeed to add such undue weight to his depression. And only
yesterday he had laughed at inconvenience and had still found charm to
thrill him in the happy unconventionality of that day and night.

Connor was already weeding in the garden when he went out; and the
dull surprise in the Irishman's sunburnt visage sent a swift and
painful colour into his own pallid face.

"Miss Greensleeve was kind enough to pu