pang--if he had come home for
the red-haired woman. Mr. Innes stopped suddenly in his reading, and
asked her of what she was thinking.

"Nothing, father."

"You don't seem to take any interest. The text is incomplete, and some
notes have been conjecturally added by a French musician." But much more
interesting to Evelyn was his account of the storm that had overtaken
his yacht on the coast of Asia Minor. He had had to take his turn at the
helm, all the sailors being engaged at the sails, and, with the waves
breaking over him, he had kept her head to the wind for more than two
hours.

"I can hardly fancy him braving the elements, can you, Evelyn?"

"I don't know, father," she said, startled by the question, for at that
moment she had seen him in imagination as clearly as if he were present.
She had seen him leaning against the door-post, a half-cynical,
half-kindly smile floating through his gold moustache. "Do you think he
will like the music you are going to give at the next concert? He is
coming, I suppose?"

"It is just possible he may arrive in time; but I should hardly think
so. I've written to invite him; he'll like the music; it is the most
interesting programme we've had--an unpublished sonata by Bach--one of
the most interesting, too. If that is not good enough for him--by the
way, have you looked through that sonata?"

"No, father, but I will do so this afternoon."

And while practising the sonata, Evelyn felt as if life had begun again.
The third movement of the sonata was an exquisite piece of musical
colour, and, if she played it properly, he could not fail to come and
congratulate her.... But he would not be here in time for the concert
... not unless he came straight through, and he would not do that after
having nearly escaped shipwreck. She was sure he would not arrive in
time, but the possibility that he might gave her additional interest in
the sonata, and every day, all through the week, she discovered more and
more surprising beauties in it.

CHAPTER FOUR

She was alone in the music-room reading a piece of music, and her back
was to the door when he entered. She hardly recognised him, tired and
tossed as he was by long journeying, and his grey travelling suit was
like a disguise.

"Is that you, Sir Owen?... You've come back?"

"Come back, yes, I have come back. I travelled straight through from
Marseilles, a pretty stiff journey.... We were nearly shipwrecked off
Marseilles."