* * * * *

She cleared the table again and sat down to her work. But somehow all
energy had gone from her. A great lassitude hung upon her. Perhaps it was
caused by the heat, or possibly by the whisky he had made her drink.
There was no resisting it. It pressed her down like a physical weight.
She gave herself up to it at last, and leaning back in her chair like a
tired child she slept.

Robin lay at her feet. The afternoon crawled away. Like the enchanted
princess of old, she reclined in a slumber so deep that life itself
seemed to be suspended.

The sun began to slant towards the west, and the pastures took on a
golden look. The lambs gambolled together with shrill bleatings. But
Dot Burton slept on in her chair, a faint smile on her face of innocence.
Though she could not have been dreaming in so deep a repose, her last
thought ere she slept must have held happiness. Her serenity lay like a
tender veil upon her.

It was drawing towards evening when Robin suddenly raised his head again
with a deep growl. There came the sound of footsteps through the open
door. The girl stirred and slowly awoke.

She stretched up her arms with a sleepy movement, and then, as voices
reached her, roused herself completely and got to her feet.

Her brother and another man--a tall, lantern-jawed stranger--were on the
point of entering.