k flash of colour. "I've no answer
either--except that Owen must be mad."

In the interval since she had last spoken she seemed to have regained
her self-control, and her voice rang clear, with a cold edge of anger.

Anna looked at her step-son. He had grown extremely pale, and his hand
fell from the door with a discouraged gesture. "That's all then? You
won't give me any reason?"

"I didn't suppose it was necessary to give you or any one else a reason
for talking with a friend of Mrs. Leath's under Mrs. Leath's own roof."

Owen hardly seemed to feel the retort: he kept his dogged stare on her
face.

"I won't ask for one, then. I'll only ask you to give me your assurance
that your talks with Darrow have had nothing to do with your suddenly
deciding to leave Givre."

She hesitated, not so much with the air of weighing her answer as of
questioning his right to exact any. "I give you my assurance; and now I
should like to go," she said.

As she turned away, Anna intervened. "My dear, I think you ought to
speak."

The girl drew herself up with a faint laugh. "To him--or to YOU?"

"To him."

She stiffened. "I've said all there is to say."

Anna drew back, her eyes on her step-son. He had left the threshold and
was advancing toward Sophy Viner with a motion of desperate appeal; but
as he did so there was a knock on the door. A moment's silence fell on
the three; then Anna said: "Come in!"

Darrow came into the room. Seeing the three together, he looked rapidly
from one to the other; then he turned to Anna with a smile.

"I came up to see if you were ready; but please send me off if I'm not
wanted."

His look, his voice, the simple sense of his presence, restored Anna's
shaken balance. By Owen's side he looked so strong, so urbane, so
experienced, that the lad's passionate charges dwindled to mere boyish
vapourings. A moment ago she had dreaded Darrow's coming; now she was
glad that he was there.

She turned to him with sudden decision. "Come in, please; I want you to
hear what Owen has been saying."

She caught a murmur from Sophy Viner, but disregarded it. An
illuminating impulse urged her on. She, habitually so aware of her
own lack of penetration, her small skill in reading hidden motives and
detecting secret signals, now felt herself mysteriously inspired. She
addressed herself to Sophy Viner. "It's much better for you both that
this absurd question should be cleared up now." Then, turning to Darrow,