on to the lawn and shrubbery, but a movement on the lawn itself caught
her eye. The cat Melchisidec was following her. She did not slacken her
pace, but for a moment the smile faded from her face at the remembrance
of her husband's outburst at breakfast. Then the smile returned, subtile
and expectant.

She did not wait for Melchisidec. She knew his way of pretending to
follow her like a dog; she knew that if she displayed any interest in
him, even showed that she was aware of his presence, he would probably
come no further. She went on at the same brisk pace till she came to the
gate in the East wood. She went through it, shut it gently, paused, and
again looked back. All of the path through the shrubbery that she could
see was empty. She turned and walked briskly along the narrow path
through the wood, and came into the long, turf-paved aisle which ran at
right angles to it.

The middle of the aisle was deeply rutted by the wheels of the carts
which had carried away the timber from the spring thinning of the wood.
She turned to the left and sauntered slowly up the smooth turf along the
side of the aisle, a brighter light of expectation in her eyes, her smile
even more mysterious and alluring.

She had not gone fifty yards up the aisle when Colonel Grey came limping
out of the entrance of a path on the other side of it, and quickened his
pace as he crossed it.

She stood still, flushing faintly, gazing at him with her lips parted a
little. He looked, as he was, very young to be a Lieutenant-Colonel, and
uncommonly fragile for a V. C. At any time he would look delicate, and
he was the paler for the fact that at times he still suffered