station.'

'Only one more word.' She assumed a quiet dignity which he could not
disregard. 'We have spoken in this way for the last time. You will not
oblige me to take all sorts of trouble merely to avoid useless and
painful conversations?'

'I love you, and I can't abandon hope.'

'Then I _must_ take that trouble.' Her face darkened, and she stood in
expectation of his departure.

'I mustn't offer to shake hands,' said Everard, drawing a step nearer.

'I hope you can remember that I had no choice but to be your hostess.'

The face and tone affected him with a brief shame. Bending his head, he
approached her, and held her offered hand, without pressure, only for
an instant.

Then he left the room.

There was a little improvement in the night; he could make his way
along the pavement without actual groping, and no unpleasant adventure
checked him before he reached the station. Rhoda's face and figure went
before him. He was not downcast; for all that she had said, this woman,
soon or late, would yield herself; he had a strange, unreasoning
assurance of it. Perhaps the obstinacy of his temper supplied him with
that confident expectation. He no longer cared on what terms he
obtained her--legal marriage or free union--it was indifferent to him.
But her life should be linked with his if fierce energy of will meant
anything.

Miss Barfoot arrived at half-past eleven, after many delays on her
journey. She was pierced with cold, choked with the poisonous air, and
had derived very little satisfaction from her visit to Faversham.

'What happened?' was her first question, as Rhoda came out into the
hall with sympathy and solicitude. 'Did the fog keep our guest away?'

'No; he dined here.'

'It was just as well. You haven't been lonely.'

They spoke no more on the subject until Miss Barfoot recovered from her
discomfort, and was enjoying a much needed supper.

'Did he offer to go away?'

'It was really impossible. It took him more than half an hour to get
here from Sloane Square.'

'Foolish fellow! Why didn't he take a train back at once?'

There was a peculiar brightness in Rhoda's countenance, and Miss
Barfoot had observed it from the first.

'Did you quarrel much?'

'Not more than was to be expected.'

'He didn't think of staying for my return?'

'He left about ten o'clock.'

'Of course. Quite late enough, under the circumstances. It was very
unfortunate, but I don't suppose Everard cared much. He w