."

She shook her head. "It 's only two miles. I'm not made of sugar."

"Then I shall simply have to follow."

She shrugged her shoulders, fixing her resolute eyes on him.

"Would that boy like to come?" she asked.

Toddles left the horse's head.

"By Jove!" he cried. "Would n't I just!"

"Then," she said, "I think that will be best. You 've been so kind."

She bowed, smiled inscrutably once more, touched the Arab with her whip,
and started, Toddles trotting at her side.

Shelton was left with Antonia underneath the elms. A sudden puff of
tepid air blew in their faces, like a warning message from the heavy,
purple heat clouds; low rumbling thunder travelled slowly from afar.

"We're going to have a storm," he said.

Antonia nodded. She was pale now, and her face still wore its cold look
of offence.

"I 've got a headache," she said, "I shall go in and lie down."

Shelton tried to speak, but something kept him silent--submission to
what was coming, like the mute submission of the fields and birds to the
menace of the storm.

He watched her go, and went back to his seat. And the silence seemed to
grow; the flowers ceased to exude their fragrance, numbed by the weighty
air. All the long house behind him seemed asleep, deserted. No noise
came forth, no laughter, the echo of no music, the ringing of no bell;
the heat had wrapped it round with drowsiness. And the silence added to
the solitude within him. What an unlucky chance, that woman's accident!
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