were crossing and recrossing. Trouble must occur somewhere. She sat down
quiet and cold. No one could have guessed her mind. She was disciplining
herself for shocks. She fought back everything but her courage. She had
always had that, but it was easier to exercise it when she lived her life
alone--with an empty heart. Now something had come into her life--but she
dared not think of it!

And the people of the hotel at her table, a half hour later, remarked how
cheerful and amiable Mrs. Detlor was. But George Hagar saw that through
the pretty masquerade there played a curious restlessness.

That afternoon they went on the excursion to Rivers abbey--Mrs. Detlor,
Hagar, Baron, Richmond and many others. They were to return by moonlight.
Baron did not tell them that a coach from the View hotel had also gone
there earlier, and that Mark Telford and Mildred Margrave with her friends
were with it. There was no particular reason why he should.

Mark Telford had gone because he hoped to see Mrs. Detlor without (if he
should think it best) being seen by her. Mildred Margrave sat in the seat
behind him--he was on the box seat--and so far gained the confidence of
the driver as to induce him to resign the reins into his hands. There was
nothing in the way of horses unfamiliar to Telford. As a child he had
ridden like a circus rider and with the fearlessness of an Arab; and his
skill had increased with years. This six in hand was, as he said, "nuts to
Jacko." Mildred was delighted. From the first moment she had seen this man
she had been attracted to him, but in a fashion as to gray headed Mr.
Margrave, who sang her praises to everybody--not infrequently to the wide
open ears of Baron. At last she hinted very faintly to the military
officer who sat on the box seat that she envied him, and he gave her his
place. Mark Telford would hardly have driven so coolly that afternoon if