ave no sign of it, for she sat bolt upright in her seat, her
eyes wide open, staring along the thin yellow ribbon which marked their
road. To the few questions as to her comfort she answered in
monosyllables, and at last he made no further effort to engage her in a
conversation. He felt no anger at her rebuffs--only tenderness--for in
his heart he could not altogether blame her for her repudiation of him.

Broad daylight found them on the Prague highroad, not three miles from
Konopisht Schloss. Here Renwick decided to desert the car and go afoot
through the forest to the castle. He hid the machine in a thicket and
led the way, Marishka following silently, content to trust herself to a
judgment which until the present moment had seemed unerring. He glanced
at her from time to time, aware of the pallor of her face and the
fatigue of her movements. Once when he turned he fancied that her lips
were smiling, but when he spoke to her she answered him shortly. The
wounds to her pride were deep, it seemed, but he armed himself with
patience and smiled at her reassuringly as they paused at the edge of
the wood.

"The Schloss is just beyond these woods, I think. Some smoke is rising
yonder. We must avoid the village. I think we may reach the garden by
the lower gate. And there I will await you, Countess Strahni," he
finished quietly.

It seemed as though in giving her her title, that he was accepting
without further plea any conditions of formality in their relations
which she might impose.

She waited a long moment without moving or replying. And then she turned
toward him with a smile.

"Herr Renwick," she said gently, "whatever the personal differences
between us, I owe you at least a word of gratitude for all that you have
done. I thank you again. But I do not wish you to wait for me. I shall
not trouble you longer."

"I will wait for you," he repeated.

"It is not necessary. I shall not return."

"You might, you know," he smiled. "I don't mind waiting at all. I shall
breakfast upon a cigarette."

"Oh," she cried, her temper rising again, "you are----you are
impossible."

With that she turned and strode ahead, reaching the gate before him and
entering.

"_Au revoir_, Countess Strahni," he called after her.

But she walked rapidly toward the rose garden without turning her head,
while Renwick, after lighting his cigarette, strolled slowly after her,
sure that the world was very beautiful, but that his path of l