flung against the window-panes. The
wind howled near and far with a fury that seemed to set the walls
vibrating. Now and then dense puffs of smoke blew out across the
hearth into the room, and the atmosphere grew thick and stifling.

But Nick did not seem aware of these things. He sat on unheeding in
the midst of his dust and ashes while the storm raged relentlessly
above his head.

CHAPTER XL

THE WOMAN'S CHOICE

With the morning there came a lull in the tempest though the great
waves that spent themselves upon the shore seemed scarcely less
mountainous than when they rode before the full force of the storm.

In Daisy Musgrave's cottage above the beach, a woman with a white,
jaded face sat by the window writing. A foreign envelope with an
Indian stamp lay on the table beside her. It had not been opened; and
once, glancing up, she pushed it slightly from her with a nervous,
impatient movement. Now and then she sat with her head upon her hand
thinking, and each time she emerged from her reverie it was to throw
a startled look towards the sea as though its ceaseless roar unnerved
her.

Nevertheless, at sight of a big, loosely-slung figure walking slowly
up the flagged path, a quick smile flashed into her face, making it
instantly beautiful. She half rose from her chair, and then dropped
back again, still faintly smiling, while the light which only one
man's coming can kindle upon any woman's face shone upon hers, erasing
all weariness and bitterness while it lingered.

At the opening of the door she turned without rising. "So you have
come after all! But I knew you would. Sit down a minute and wait while
I finish this tiresome letter. I have just done."

She was already scribbling last words as fast as her pen would move,
and her visitor waited for her without a word.

In a few minutes she turned to him again. "I have been writing a note
to Muriel, explaining things a little. She doesn't yet know that I
am here; but it would be no good for her to join me, for I am only
packing. I shall leave as soon as I can get away. And she too is going
almost at once to Mrs. Langdale, I believe. So we shall probably not
meet again at present. You will be seeing her this afternoon. Will you
give it to her?"

She held the letter out to him, but he made no move to take it. His
face was very pale, more sternly miserable than she had ever seen it.
"I think you had better post it," he said.

She rose and looked at him