Designed by Providence to put Antonia further from him than before! Why
was not the world composed of the immaculate alone? He started pacing up
and down, tortured by a dreadful heartache.

"I must get rid of this," he thought. "I 'll go for a good tramp, and
chance the storm."

Leaving the drive he ran on Toddles, returning in the highest spirits.

"I saw her home," he crowed. "I say, what a ripper, isn't she? She 'll
be as lame as a tree to-morrow; so will the gee. Jolly hot!"

This meeting showed Shelton that he had been an hour on the stone seat;
he had thought it some ten minutes, and the discovery alarmed him. It
seemed to bring the import of his miserable fear right home to him. He
started with a swinging stride, keeping his eyes fixed on the road, the
perspiration streaming down his face.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE STORM

It was seven and more when Shelton returned, from his walk; a few heat
drops had splashed the leaves, but the storm had not yet broken. In
brooding silence the world seemed pent beneath the purple firmament.

By rapid walking in the heat Shelton had got rid of his despondency. He
felt like one who is to see his mistress after long estrangement. He,
bathed, and, straightening his tie-ends, stood smiling at the glass. His
fear, unhappiness, and doubts seemed like an evil dream; how much worse
off would he not have been, had it all been true?

It was dinner-party night, and when he reached the drawing-room the
guests were there already, chattering of the coming storm. Antonia was
not yet down, and Shelton stood by the piano waiting for her entry. Red
faces, spotless shirt-fronts, white arms; and freshly-twisted hair were
all around him. Some one handed him a clove carnation, and, as he held
it to his nose, Antonia came in, breathless, as though she had rushed
down-stairs, Her cheeks were pale no longer; her hand kept stealing to
her throat. The flames of the coming storm seemed to have caught fire
within her, to be scorching her in her white frock; she passed him close,
and her fragrance whipped his senses.

She had never seemed to him so lovely.

Never again will Shelton breathe the perfume of melons and pineapples
without a strange emotion. From where he sat at dinner he could not see
Antonia, but amidst the chattering of voices, the clink of glass and
silver, the sights and sounds and scents of feasting, he thought how he
would go to her and say that nothing mattered bu