She looked up, as if struck by a sudden thought. "That poor woman--did you
ever see her while you were out there?"

He drew his hand away and gathered his brows together as if in an effort of
remembrance.

"I saw her--oh, yes, I saw her." He pushed the tumbled hair from his
forehead and stood up. "Let us go out," he said. "My head is in a fog. I
want to get away from it all."

A wave of compunction drew her to her feet.

"It was my fault! I ought not to have asked so many questions." She turned
and rang the bell. "I'll order the ponies--we shall have time for a drive
before sunset."


II

With the sunset in their faces they swept through the keen-scented autumn
air at the swiftest pace of Kate's ponies. She had given the reins to
Peyton, and he had turned the horses' heads away from the lake, rising by
woody upland lanes to the high pastures which still held the sunlight. The
horses were fresh enough to claim his undivided attention, and he drove in
silence, his smooth fair profile turned to his companion, who sat silent
also.

Kate Orme was engaged in one of those rapid mental excursions which were
forever sweeping her from the straight path of the actual into uncharted
regions of conjecture. Her survey of life had always been marked by the