dship unless he had her permission to pass beyond
them. And it was this knowledge that emboldened her at parting to say,
with her hand in his: "You are very, very good to me. I would like to
thank you if I could."

He pressed her hand with the kindness of an old friend. "No, don't thank
me!" he said, smiling at her in a way that somehow went to her heart. "I
shall always be at your service. But I'd rather you took it as a matter
of course. I feel more comfortable that way."

Avery left him at length and trudged home through the mud with a curious
feeling of uncertainty in her soul. It was as though she had been
vouchsafed a far glimpse of destiny which had been too fleeting for her
comprehension.

CHAPTER XXVII

SHADOW

The preparations that must inevitably precede a departure for an
indefinite length of time kept Avery from dwelling overmuch on what had
passed on that gusty afternoon when she had taken shelter in the
doctor's house.

Whether or not she believed the rumour concerning Piers she scarcely
asked herself. For some reason into which she did not enter she was
firmly resolved to exclude him from her mind, and she welcomed the many
occupations that kept her thoughts engrossed. No word from him had
reached her since that daring letter written nearly three months
before, just after his departure. It seemed that he had accepted her
answer just as she had meant him to accept it, and that he had nothing
more to say. So at least she viewed the matter, not suffering any
inward question to arise.

She saw Lennox Tudor several times before the last day arrived. He did
not seek her out. It simply came about in the ordinary course of things.
He was plainly determined that neither in public nor private should there
be any secret sense of embarrassment between them. And for this also she
was grateful, liking him for his blunt consideration for her better than
she had ever liked him before.

It was on the evening of the day preceding her departure with Jeanie that
she ran down in the dusk to the post at the end of the lane with a
letter. Her Australian friend had written to propose a visit, and she had
been obliged to put him off.

There was a bitter wind blowing, but she hastened along hatless, with a
cloak thrown round her shoulders. Past the church with its sheltering
yew-trees she ran, intent only upon executing her errand in as short a
time as possible.

Her hair blew loose about her face, and before