had given to the world. There was nothing in it to show that the man who wrote it was sitting in the midst of the ruin of his own hopes. Valerie wondered why she was amazed that he could write it at that time. Then she remembered that she could still play the piano.
That night she played for the first time since she had received his letter, and found that she could forget him. When she had played for a little over an hour she jumped from the keyboard electrified. She thought she had heard her name called. She was sure she had heard it called. It was a still warm night. There were no confusing sounds to deceive her. She stood rooted to the study floor, but she heard nothing more. She told herself she must not let her nerves play tricks on her. But she was afraid to go out of the room, afraid to look round, what of, she did not know. It was some time before she convinced herself there had been no call.
She went into her own study and sat down. What if Dane were back watching her? She had never known in his absences whether he were really away from the house or not. Supposing he had come back to try to keep her after all. Then she saw how much in those three days her mind had turned towards going, and the thought that he might come, that there might be a tragic scene or a battle of wills, tormented her. Her nerves got into a ferment. The thought that he was there grew upon her. But she could not bring herself to go through the house and see.
She had had the boys that afternoon bring her trunks and boxes from a room at the stables where they had been kept. They were now on her front verandah. The idea came to her to get away the next day. She could not stay another night in this place with the thought that Dane was watching her. She closed her window, drew the
