In the oak room he found Mrs. Leath, her mother-in-law andEffie. The group, as he came toward it down the longdrawing-rooms, composed itself prettily about the tea-table.

　　The lamps and the fire crossed their gleams on silver andporcelain, on the bright haze of Effie's hair and on thewhiteness of Anna's forehead, as she leaned back in herchair behind the tea-urn.

　　She did not move at Darrow's approach, but lifted to him adeep gaze of peace and confidence. The look seemed to throwabout him the spell of a divine security: he felt the joy ofa convalescent suddenly waking to find the sunlight on hisface.

　　Madame de Chantelle, across her knitting, discoursed oftheir afternoon's excursion, with occasional pauses inducedby the hypnotic effect of the fresh air; and Effie,kneeling, on the hearth, softly but insistently sought toimplant in her terrier's mind some notion of the relationbetween a vertical attitude and sugar.

　　Darrow took a chair behind the little girl, so that he mightlook across at her mother. It was almost a necessity forhim, at the moment, to let his eyes rest on Anna's face, andto meet, now and then, the proud shyness of her gaze.

　　Madame de Chantelle presently enquired what had become ofOwen, and a moment later the window behind her opened, andher grandson, gun in hand, came in from the terrace. As hestood there in the lamp-light, with dead leaves and bits ofbramble clinging to his mud-spattered clothes, the scent ofthe night about him and its chill on his pale bright face,he really had the look of a young faun strayed in from theforest.

　　Effie abandoned the terrier to fly to him. "Oh, Owen, wherein the world have you been? I walked miles and miles withNurse and couldn't find you, and we met Jean and he said hedidn't know where you'd gone.""Nobody knows where I go, or what I see when I get there--that's the beauty of it!" he laughed back at her. "But ifyou're good," he added, "I'll tell you about it one of thesedays.""Oh, now, Owen, now! I don't really believe I'll ever bemuch better than I am now.""Let Owen have his tea first," her mother suggested; but theyoung man, declining the offer, propped his gun against thewall, and, lighting a cigarette, began to pace up and downthe room in a way that reminded Darrow of his own cagedwanderings. Effie pursued him with her blandishments, andfor a while he poured out to her a low-voiced stream ofnonsense; then he sat down beside his step-mother and leanedover to help himself to tea.

　　"Where's Miss Viner?" he asked, as Effie climbed up on him.

　　"Why isn't she here to chain up this ungovernable infant?""Poor Miss Viner has a headache. Effie says she went to herroom as soon as lessons were over, and sent word that shewouldn't be down for tea.""Ah," said Owen, abruptly setting down his cup. He stoodup, lit another cigarette, and wandered away to the piano inthe room beyond.

　　From the twilight where he sat a lonely music, borne onfantastic chords, floated to the group about the tea-table.

　　Under its influence Madame de Chantelle's meditative pausesincreased in length and frequency, and Effie stretchedherself on the hearth, her drowsy head against the dog.

　　Presently her nurse appeared, and Anna rose at the sametime. "Stop a minute in my sitting-room on your way up,"she paused to say to Darrow as she went.

　　A few hours earlier, her request would have brought himinstantly to his feet. She had given him, on the day of hisarrival, an inviting glimpse of the spacious book-lined roomabove stairs in which she had gathered together all thetokens of her personal tastes: the retreat in which, as onemight fancy, Anna Leath had hidden the restless ghost ofAnna Summers; and the thought of a talk with her there hadbeen in his mind ever since. But now he sat motionless, asif spell-bound by the play of Madame de Chantelle's needlesand the pulsations of Owen's fitful music.

　　"She will want to ask me about the girl," he repeated tohimself, with a fresh sense of the insidious taint thatembittered all his thoughts; the hand of the slender-columned clock on the mantel-piece had spanned a half-hourbefore shame at his own indecision finally drew him to hisfeet.

　　From her writing-table, where she sat over a pile ofletters, Anna lifted her happy smile. The impulse to presshis lips to it made him come close and draw her upward. Shethrew her head back, as if surprised at the abruptness ofthe gesture; then her face leaned to his with the slow droopof a flower. He felt again the sweep of the secret tides,and all his fears went down in them.

　　She sat down in the sofa-corner by the fire and he drew anarmchair close to her. His gaze roamed peacefully about thequiet room.

　　"It's just like you--it is you," he said, as his eyes cameback to her.

　　"It's a good place to be alone in--I don't think I've everbefore cared to talk with any one here.""Let's be quiet, then: it's the best way of talking.""Yes; but we must save it up till later. There are things Iwant to say to you now."He leaned back in his chair. "Say them, then, and I'lllisten.""Oh, no. I want you to tell me about Miss Viner.""About Miss Viner?" He summoned up a look of faintinterrogation.

　　He thought she seemed surprised at his surprise. "It'simportant, naturally," she explained, "that I should findout all I can about her before I leave.""Important on Effie's account?""On Effie's account--of course.""Of course...But you've every reason to be satisfied,haven't you?""Every apparent reason. We all like her. Effie's very fondof her, and she seems to have a delightful influence on thechild. But we know so little, after all--about herantecedents, I mean, and her past history. That's why Iwant you to try and recall everything you heard about herwhen you used to see her in London.""Oh, on that score I'm afraid I sha'n't be of much use. As Itold you, she was a mere shadow in the background of thehouse I saw her in--and that was four or five years ago...""When she was with a Mrs. Murrett?""Yes; an appalling woman who runs a roaring dinner-factorythat used now and then to catch me in its wheels. I escapedfrom them long ago; but in my time there used to be half adozen fagged 'hands' to tend the machine, and Miss Viner wasone of them. I'm glad she's out of it, poor girl!""Then you never really saw anything of her there?""I never had the............