his features. He wore a morning-coat and was top-hatted. The
swing of his carriage was indefinitely familiar.

And now he had vanished--lost courage, lost patience, given up his
quest, perhaps. Through the triangular gaps in the panes the
village-green showed untraversed, sunlit, tranquil, garnished.

Without knocking Porter entered, looking worried.

Maisie broke off from her conversation long enough to say, "A little
later, Porter. We're not finished."

She was resuming, when Porter again interrupted. "It isn't that, Madam.
It isn't----"

"Then what is it?"

With an elaborate air of caution Porter closed the door and set her back
against it. "I've told him that it's no good. That you won't see him,
Madam."

"Of course not. That's quite right." Maisie bestowed her approval with
rapid tolerance. "I can't see any one at present." Then, as an
after-thought, "By the way, who is it?"

It was then that Porter let fall her bomb. "It's no good my telling him.
He won't go away." Her firmness crumbled. She bleated in a dramatic
surrender to distress. The three who heard her caught the commotion of
her alarm and waited breathless. Her explanation came at last. "It's Mr.
Easterday." The moment she had said it, she turned and fled.

The door had scarcely closed, when Maisie rose from her chair and stood
swaying. She sank back, closing her eyes and pressing her hands against
her breast. The mask of placidity had been wrenched from her face,
leaving it blanched with the conflict between yearning, temptation and
loneliness.

"Adair!" she moaned. "My God, I daren't trust myself!"

Unclosing her eyes, she gazed burningly at Tabs.

"I was honest in what I promised. I do want to live as though Reggie
weren't dead. How did you put it? As though he were round the corner. As
though he were truly coming back."

In the silence that followed she stifled a sob, realizing that it wasn't
Tabs who was the obstacle. Turning hysterically to Terry, she laid hold
of both her hands. "I can't do it--_can't, can't_ by myself. I can only
do it if you'll tell Lord Taborley to help me."

IV

At a nod from Terry he left the table. In the hall he found an odd sight
waiting for him. He had to look twice to make certain that this was the
Adair Easterday whom he had known, and not a strayed and beflustered
wedding-guest.

The man before him was worried to distraction. He had the unhappy,
panic-stricken eyes of an over-driven bullock that s