o back and ask her now. He was not greatly enjoying
himself. It was growing late, and it had begun to drizzle.

His inclination became the more insistent, the more he thought of it.
Yes, he would go. He was intimate enough with his host to do as he liked
without explanation. And he and Violet had always been such pals.
Besides, the thought of sitting with her in the firelight while her
husband squelched about in the rain was one that appealed to him. He had
no liking for Field, however deeply he might be in his debt. That latent
antagonism between them was perpetually making itself felt. He hated the
man for the very ability by which he himself had been saved. He hated
his calm superiority. Above all, he hated him for marrying Violet. It
seemed that he had only to stretch out his hand for whatever he wanted.
Still, he hadn't got everything now, Wentworth said to himself, as he
strode impatiently back over the moor. Possibly, as time went on, he
might even come to realise that what he had was not worth very much.

He reached and entered the old grey house well ahead of any of the other
sportsmen. He was determined to find Violet somehow, and he made instant
enquiry for her of one of the servants.

The reply served in some measure to soothe his chafing mood. Her ladyship
had gone up into the turret some little time back, and was believed to be
on the roof.

Without delay he followed her. The air blew chill down the stone
staircase as he mounted it. He would have preferred sitting downstairs
with her over the fire. But at least interruptions were less probable in
this quarter.

There was a battlemented walk at the top of the tower, and here he found
her, with a wrap thrown over her head, gazing out through one of the deep
embrasures over the misty country to a line of hills in the far distance.
The view was magnificent, lighted here and there by sunshine striking
through scudding cloud-drifts. And a splendid rainbow spanned it like a
multi-coloured frame.

She did not hear him approaching. He wondered why, till he was so close
that he could see her face, and then very swiftly she turned upon him and
he saw that she was crying.

"My dear girl!" he exclaimed.

She drew back sharply. It was impossible to conceal her distress all in a
moment. She moved aside, battling with herself.

He came close to her. "Violet!" he said.

"Don't!" she said, in a choked whisper.

He slipped an arm about her, gently overcoming her