t till she deliberately
waited for him did he overtake and walk beside her.

No words passed between them as they went. They seemed to move through a
world of shadows,--a spell-bound, waiting world. And gradually, as if a
soothing hand had been laid upon her, Avery felt the wild tumult at her
heart subside. She remembered that he had refrained himself almost at her
first word, and slowly her confidence came back. He had appealed to her
to understand, and she could not let his appeal go wholly unanswered.

As they passed at length through the gate that led into the Vicarage
lane, she spoke. "Piers, I am not angry."

"Aren't you?" he said, and by the eager relief of his voice she knew that
her silence had been hard to bear.

She put out a hand to him as they walked. "But, Piers, that--is not the
way to make me love you."

"I know--I know," he said quickly; and then haltingly: "I've been--so
beastly lonely, Avery. Make allowances for me--forgive me!"

He had not taken her hand; she slipped it into his. "I do," she said
simply. She felt his fingers close tensely, but in a moment they opened
again and set her free.

He did not utter another word, merely walked on beside her till they
reached the Vicarage gate. She thought he would have left her there, but
he did not. They went up the drive together to the porch.

From his kennel at the side of the house Mike barked a sharp challenge
that turned into an unmistakable note of welcome as they drew near. Avery
silenced him with a reassuring word.

She found the key, and in the darkness of the porch she began to fumble
for the lock.

Piers stooped. "Let me!"

She gave him the key, and as she stood up again she noted the brightness
of the fanlight over the floor. She thought that she had lowered the
light at leaving; she had certainly intended to do so.

Very softly Piers opened the door. It swung noiselessly back upon its
hinges, and the full light smote upon them.

In the same instant a slim, white figure came calmly forward through the
hall and stopped beneath the lamp.

Olive Lorimer, pale, severe, with fixed, accusing eyes, stood
confronting them.

"Mrs. Denys!" she said, in accents of frozen surprise.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES

The encounter was so amazing, so utterly unlooked for, that Avery had a
moment of downright consternation. The child's whole air and expression
were so exactly reminiscent of her father that she almost felt as