m across the flower garden and up the steps
that led to the glass doors. He passed into the room, out of her sight,
but she still stood there among the asters and the box. His look was
strange, she thought, and her hand had been crushed, rather than held,
to his lips. She drew her scarf about her; the September evening was
falling chill. The sunset light struck full upon the glass doors. She
wondered why, for the second time in an afternoon, Ludwell Cary wished
to see Uncle Edward, there in the library. Only once or twice, in the
fortnight that she had been at Fontenoy, had she entered the library,
and it was the room of all others that she loved. She thought now of the
old green chair and of her father's portrait, and of every loved and
dreamed-of detail, and she felt shut out in the dusk and chill. A
sensation of strangeness crept over her. She thought, "If I were dead
and trying to make the living hear, I should feel this way. And they
would not even try to hear; they would shut the door and keep me out,
all alone in the dark."

She stood for a full minute staring at the panes and the red reflected
glare of the sun, then drew the scarf closer over her head, and took the
path that led to the quarter.

CHAPTER XXII

MAJOR EDWARD

Rand rose from the supper-table and led the way into the dim,
high-ceilinged room that served him as study and library. "Bring the
candles," he said over his shoulder, and Tom Mocket obediently took up
the heavy candelabra. With the clustered lights illuminating freckled
face and sandy hair, he followed his chief. "Don't you want me to start
the fire?" he asked. "These October nights are mortal cold."

"Yes," answered Rand. "Put a light to it and make the room bright. Fire
is like a woman's presence."

As he spoke, he walked to the windows and drew the curtains, then took
from his desk a number of papers and began to lay them in an orderly row
upon the table in the middle of the room. "Mrs. Churchill is quite out
of danger. My wife returns to Roselands to-morrow."

"That's fortunate," quoth Mocket, on his knees before the great
fireplace. "You always did cut things mighty close, Lewis, and I must
say you are cutting this one close! Adam, he goes along from day to day
laughing and singing, with a face as smooth as an egg, but I'll warrant
he's watching the sun, the clock, and the hourglass!"

"I know--I know," said Rand. "The sun is travelling, and the clock is
striking, and t