nes from her wet clothes,
which felt intolerably heavy as she stood there, resting one gloved hand
against the damp wall and staring at the lantern. Her thoughts had
been disturbed by her brief interview with the peasant; the rain chilled
her, and her face burned. She touched her cheek with her hand where
Reanda had struck her. It felt bruised and sore, for the blow had not
been a light one. The sensation of the wet leather disgusted her, and
she drew off the glove with difficulty, turning it inside out over her
full white hand. Then she touched the place again, and patted it,
softly, and felt it. But her eyes did not move from the lantern.

There was one of those momentary lulling pauses in the rush of events
which seem sent to confuse men's thoughts and unsettle their purposes.
Had she reached the house five minutes earlier, she would not have
hesitated a moment at the foot of the stairs. Suddenly she turned back
to the door, and stood there looking out. It looked very black. She
gathered her dripping skirt back as she bent forward a little and peered
into the darkness. The rain fell in sheets, now, with the unquavering
sound of a steadily rushing torrent. It would be madness to go out into
it. A shiver ran through her, and another. She was very cold and
miserable. No doubt Griggs had a fire upstairs, and a pleasant light in
his study. He would be there, hard at work. She would knock, and he
would open, and she would sit down by the fire and dry herself, and pour
out her misery. The red bar was still across her face--she had seen it
in the looking-glass when she had put on her hat.

To go back, to see her husband that night--it was impossible. Later,
perhaps, when he should be asleep, Griggs would find a carriage and take
her home. No one would ever know where she had been, and she would never
tell any more than Griggs would. She felt that she must see him and tell
him everything, and feel his strength beside her. After all, he was the
only friend she had in the world, and it was natural that she should
turn to him for help, in her father's absence. He was her father's
friend, too.

She shivered again and again from head to foot, and she drew back from
the door. For a moment she hesitated. Then with a womanly action she
began to shake the rain out of her cloak and her skirts as well as she
could, wetting her hands to the wrists. As she bent down, shaking the
hem of the skirt, the blood rushed to her face again, and