Soon, before supper was ended, she had risen from the table,
unquestioned by the others, had paused a moment to meet Stewart's eye
full of mystery and blessing, had closed the door and was gone.

She slipped down the road and across the field to the railway. There was
a train standing, glowing and breathing upon the lines, and the driver
called to her as she ran round the buffers of the engine. Soon she was
down by the riverside and looking for Margot. Though there was moonlight
far above her the river banks were wrapped in fog that smelt of water,
and Margot's face at the hut window was white, and her wool dress white,
too. She came down and they rowed out into the fog, in an upward circle
because of the stream. Fanny could just see her companion's little blunt
boots, the stretched laces across her instep, and above, her pretty face
and slant eyes. Hurriedly, in the boat she pulled off the thick stockings,
rolled them up, and drew on the silk. A chill struck her feet. She wrapped
the ends of her coat lightly round her knees and as she did so the roll
of thick stockings sprang out of her lap and fell overboard into the fog
and the river.

"Mademoiselle goes to a party?" said Margot, who had not noticed. The
soft sympathetic voice was as full of blessing as Stewart's eyes had
been.

"Yes, to a party. And you will fetch me back to-night when I whistle?"

"Yes. Blow three times, for sometimes in the singing at home I lose the
sound."

The opposite bank seemed to drift in under the motionless boat, and she
sprang out.