und a few letters in
the pockets, among them one from Ian written from Berlin a few days
before, speaking of his speedy return and of Tony's amusing letter from
the sea-side. She began to hope her feeling of anxiety and depression
might be only the shadow of the fear and anguish which she had suffered
on that horrible afternoon sixteen months ago. She must try not to think
about it, must try to be bright for Ian's sake. Some one surely was with
her at this queer place, since she was sharing a room with another
person--probably a female friend of that Other's, who had such a crowd
of them.

She drew the awning half-way up and stood on the step outside the French
window. The lawn, the trees, the opposite hills were unknown to her, but
the spirit of the river spoke to her familiarly, and she knew it for the
Thames. A gardener in shirt-sleeves was filling a water-barrel by the
river, under a hawthorn-tree, and the young man in the punt was putting
up his fishing-tackle. As she looked, the strangeness of the scene
passed away. She could not say where it was, but in some dream or vision
she had certainly seen this lawn, that view, before; when the young man
turned and came nearer she would know his face. And the dim, horrible
thing that was waiting for her somewhere about the quiet house, the
quiet garden, seemed to draw a step nearer, to lift its veil a little.
Who was it that had stood not far from where the gardener was standing
now, and seen the moon hanging large and golden over the mystery of the
opposite woods? Whoever it was, some one's arm had been fast around her
and there had been kisses--kisses.

It took but a few seconds for these half-revelations to drop into her
mind, and before she had had time to reflect upon them, the young man in
the punt looked up and saw her standing there on the step. He took off
his floppy hat and waved it to her; then he put down his tackle, ran to
the near end of the punt and jumped lightly ashore. He came up the green
lawn, and her anxiety sent her down to meet him almost as eagerly as
love would have done. The hat shaded all the upper part of his face, and
at a distance, in the strong sunshine, the audacious chin, the red lower
lip, caught her eye first and seemed to extinguish the rest of the face.
And suddenly she disliked them. Who was the man, and how did she come to
know him? But former experiences of strange awakenings had made her
cautious, self-controlling, almost capable o