She drove from Miss Painter's to her own apartment. Themaid-servant who had it in charge had been apprised of hercoming, and had opened one or two of the rooms, and prepareda fire in her bedroom. Anna shut herself in, refusing thewoman's ministrations. She felt cold and faint, and aftershe had taken off her hat and cloak she knelt down by thefire and stretched her hands to it.

　　In one respect, at least, it was clear to her that she woulddo well to follow Sophy Viner's counsel. It had been an actof folly to follow Owen, and her first business was to getback to Givre before him. But the only train leaving thatevening was a slow one, which did not reach Francheuil tillmidnight, and she knew that her taking it would exciteMadame de Chantelle's wonder and lead to interminable talk.

　　She had come up to Paris on the pretext of finding a newgoverness for Effie, and the natural thing was to defer herreturn till the next morning. She knew Owen well enough tobe sure that he would make another attempt to see MissViner, and failing that, would write again and await heranswer: so that there was no likelihood of his reachingGivre till the following evening.

　　Her sense of relief at not having to start out at onceshowed her for the first time how tired she was. Thebonne had suggested a cup of tea, but the dread of havingany one about her had made Anna refuse, and she had eatennothing since morning but a sandwich bought at a buffet.

　　She was too tired to get up, but stretching out her arm shedrew toward her the arm-chair which stood beside the hearthand rested her head against its cushions. Gradually thewarmth of the fire stole into her veins and her heaviness ofsoul was replaced by a dreamy buoyancy. She seemed to beseated on the hearth in her sitting-room at Givre, andDarrow was beside her, in the chair against which sheleaned. He put his arms about her shoulders and drawing herhead back looked into her eyes. "Of all the ways you doyour hair, that's the way I like best," he said...

　　A log dropped, and she sat up with a start. There was awarmth in her heart, and she was smiling. Then she lookedabout her, and saw where she was, and the glory fell. Shehid her face and sobbed.

　　Presently she perceived that it was growing dark, andgetting up stiffly she began to undo the things in her bagand spread them on the dressing-table. She shrank fromlighting the lights, and groped her way about, trying tofind what she needed. She seemed immeasurably far off fromevery one, and most of all from herself. It was as if herconsciousness had been transmitted to some stranger whosethoughts and gestures were indifferent to her...

　　Suddenly she heard a shrill tinkle, and with a beating heartshe stood still in the middle of the room. It was thetelephone in her dressing-room--a call, no doubt, fromAdelaide Painter. Or could Owen have learned she was intown? The thought alarmed her and she opened the door andstumbled across the unlit room to the instrument. She heldit to her ear, and heard Darrow's voice pronounce her name.

　　"Will you let me see you? I've come back--I had to come.

　　Miss Painter told me you were here."She began to tremble, and feared that he would guess it fromher voice. She did not know what she answered: she heardhim say: "I can't hear." She called "Yes!" and laid thetelephone down, and caught it up again--but he was gone.

　　She wondered if her "Yes" had reached him.

　　She sat in her chair and listened. Why had she said thatshe would see him? What did she mean to say to him when hecame? Now and then, as she sat there, the sense of hispresence enveloped her as in her dream, and she shut hereyes and felt his arms about her. Then she woke to realityand shivered. A long time elapsed, and at length she saidto herself: "He isn't coming."The door-bell rang as she said it, and she stood up, coldand trembling. She thought: "Can he imagine there's any usein coming?" and moved forward to bid the servant say shecould not see him.

　　The door opened and she saw him standing in the drawing-room. The room was cold and fireless, and a hard glare fellfrom the wall-lights on the shrouded furniture and the whiteslips covering the curtains. He looked pale and stern, witha frown of fatigue between his eyes; and she remembered thatin three days he had travelled from Givre to London andback. It seemed incredible that all that had befallen hershould have been compressed within the space of three days!

　　"Thank you," he said as she came in.

　　She answered: "It's better, I suppose----"He came toward her and took her in his arms. She struggleda little, afraid of yielding, but he pressed her to him, notbending to her but holding her fast, as though he had foundher after a long search: she heard his hurried breathing.

　　It seemed to come from her own breast, so close he held her;and it was she who, at last, lifted up her face and drewdown his.

　　She freed herself and went and sat on a sofa at the otherend of the room. A mirror between the shrouded window-curtains showed her crumpled travelling dress and the whiteface under her disordered hairShe found her voice, and asked him how he had been able toleave London. He answered that he had managed--he'darranged it; and she saw he hardly heard what she wassaying.

　　"I had to see you," he went on, and moved nearer, sittingdown at her side.

　　"Yes; we must think of Owen----""Oh, Owen--!"Her mind had flown back to Sophy Viner's plea that sheshould let Darrow return to Givre in order that Owen mightbe persuaded of the folly of his suspicions. The suggestionwas absurd, of course. She could not ask Darrow to lendhimself to such a fraud, even h............