t into the garden. Her head was throbbing
painfully, her cheeks burnt with a scarlet flush, and it was surely
quicksilver and not blood which ran so swiftly through her veins.

The day was unseasonably warm, and a slight fog hung about, making the
air damp and heavy. Owen had gone to town immediately after lunch; and
Toni was inexpressibly relieved by his absence.

They had barely spoken to one another to-day. Owen was suffering from
one of his worst neuralgic headaches, which at all times made him feel
disinclined for speech; and Toni said little because she had nothing to
say.

At half-past three a note was delivered to her by a lad wheeling a
bicycle; and when the messenger had withdrawn, Toni opened the grey
envelope with fingers that shook. Inside she found a fairly long letter,
which had evidently been written in haste, for the writing was untidy,
and here and there a word was almost illegible.

"I can hardly believe you will come, Toni." So ran the letter in which
Leonard Dowson accepted, the happiness promised to him. "It seems too
good, too exceedingly, marvellously good to be true. Yet your little
letter lies before me, and you are too kind, too sincere to deceive me.
So it is true; and the sun has risen on my grey and lonely life. Then
listen, Toni. I have made all preparations for my own departure
to-night. I have paid off my servants, the rent, and left everything in
order; and I am in possession of a sufficient sum of money in notes and
gold to enable us to live for some months in peace on the Continent. Now
comes the question of our meeting. I have ascertained that the night
boat leaves Dover about eleven; and in order to cross to Calais, on the
way to Paris, we must take the boat train from Victoria. I think it will
be safer to motor up to town rather than risk meeting any acquaintances
in the train; and a car will be waiting at the corner of Elm Lane at six
o'clock. That will give us sufficient time to catch the train, and will
be pleasanter than the other mode of travelling. With regard to your
luggage, do not trouble to bring more than a dressing-case; for it will
be my pleasure and privilege in future to provide you with all you may
desire. I have still much to do, so will bid you farewell until the
precious moment which brings you to my side."

He had evidently hesitated over his signature; there were one or two
erasures; but at length he had written, his name firmly, without any
attempt at a f