One of them opened—that into the hall behind them. They heard it and wheeled round, faces sharp-set in defensive interrogation. It was [Pg 90]Flora Stokes. She rested on the threshold looking at them, and Stokes, his senses more alert than the girl’s, withdrew his arm from her clasp.

[Pg 90]

“Oh, Flora,” he said, his voice supremely light and easy. “Were you looking for me?”

Mrs. Stokes said no, she had come to put her book back. She walked slowly to a table and placed her book on the corner. The room was very still as she did this. Stokes, his hands deep in his pockets, moved his head, following her progress as if it roused his curiosity. The girl stood without a sound, the scene passing under her eyes with a mirage-like unreality.

“It seems I’ve intruded,” said Mrs. Stokes, each syllable meticulously clear and precise. “But if you want to be alone I should think you’d have chosen another place.”

“Having chosen this is a pretty good proof we didn’t want to be alone,” retorted her husband.

She gave a light jeering sound of disbelief and walked to the entrance. On the sill she turned and looked at them with smoldering eyes:

[Pg 91]

[Pg 91]

“Don’t be afraid I’ll stay. I’m going for a walk on the front of the island. That’s as far away as I can get; I’d go farther if I could.”

She passed out of the door and Stokes turned to the girl:

“There—that’s what I was afraid of. Some of the rest of them may come in at any minute. We’ve got to get out of here, some place outside.”

“The Point—the summer-house. I’ll go down there now—you follow me.”

She ran to the entrance, he at her heels. Walking leisurely up the path to the summer-house was Shine. She threw out her hands with a distracted gesture and struck a foot on the floor in a frantic stamp. Stokes smothered an oath. “Tell me here,” she implored, but he answered with an imperative shake of the head.

“The garden.” She was half-way 

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