"I said before you touched me--ah, don't touch me again--that I
_should_ make it hard--the harder I make it, the more I shall grow--but
I can't bear so much!" She had risen, was moving away.

"Let's walk," he said shortly; and then, "Even if you put me aside,
won't you keep me in your life?"

"The Guides will tell me," she answered simply.

"But I may see you--call on you in the city?"

"Unless the Guides forbid."

They were walking side by side now; they had turned from the sunken
arena, which surrounded the tennis court, toward the house. Blake saw
that the driver of the Mountain House stage was approaching. He waved a
yellow envelope as he came on:

"Been looking for you, Miss Markham. Telegram. Charges paid."

Dr. Blake stepped away as Annette, in the preliminary flutter of fear
with which a woman always receives a telegram, tore open the envelope
and read the enclosure. Without a word, she handed it over to him. It
read:

ANNETTE MARKHAM:

Take next train home. Advice of Martha. Wire arrival.