lained in a rapid undertone what she had learned from Sophy
Viner.

"Shall I leave you?" Darrow asked.

"Yes...no..." She moved to the dining-room door, with the half-formed
purpose of making him pass out, and then turned back. "It may be
Adelaide."

They heard the outer door open, and a moment later Owen walked into the
room. He was pale, with excited eyes: as they fell on Darrow, Anna saw
his start of wonder. He made a slight sign of recognition, and then went
up to his step-mother with an air of exaggerated gaiety.

"You furtive person! I ran across the omniscient Adelaide and heard from
her that you'd rushed up suddenly and secretly." He stood between Anna
and Darrow, strained, questioning, dangerously on edge.

"I came up to meet Mr. Darrow," Anna answered. "His leave's been
prolonged--he's going back with me."

The words seemed to have uttered themselves without her will, yet she
felt a great sense of freedom as she spoke them.

The hard tension of Owen's face changed to incredulous surprise. He
looked at Darrow. "The merest luck...a colleague whose wife was ill...I
came straight back," she heard the latter tranquilly explaining. His
self-command helped to steady her, and she smiled at Owen.

"We'll all go back together tomorrow morning," she said as she slipped
her arm through his.

XXXIII

Owen Leath did not go back with his step-mother to Givre. In reply to
her suggestion he announced his intention of staying on a day or two
longer in Paris.

Anna left alone by the first train the next morning. Darrow was to
follow in the afternoon. When Owen had left them the evening before,
Darrow waited a moment for her to speak; then, as she said nothing, he
asked her if she really wished him to return to Givre. She made a mute
sign of assent, and he added: "For you know that, much as I'm ready to
do for Owen, I can't do that for him--I can't go back to be sent away
again."

"No--no!"

He came nearer, and looked at her, and she went to him. All her fears
seemed to fall from her as he held her. It was a different feeling from
any she had known before: confused and turbid, as if secret shames and
rancours stirred in it, yet richer, deeper, more enslaving. She leaned
her head back and shut her eyes beneath his kisses. She knew now that
she could never give him up.

Nevertheless she asked him, the next morning, to let her go back alone
to Givre. She wanted time to think. She was convinced that what ha