"That avenue!" exclaimed Denis standing still. "It was my first landmark, as you said it would be. You might let me see it before it's dark!" Nan pointed to the screen of trees beyond the kitchen-garden. "There it is. You do see it." "But properly!" "Very well." She led the way. His voice had trembled; a deep compassion softened hers. In a minute they were in the avenue. It was narrower even than he had thought. The trees in their autumn tatters still met above their heads. But it was a place of premature twilight, where faces were already hard to see. Figures are often more eloquent. He stood in front of her with his arms unconsciously flung wide, and she stood drooping just beyond his reach. "Nan!" His voice choked with doubt and apprehension. "Yes! I suppose you may call me that," she said, sadly. "Call you that? Call you Nan?" His arm flew round her at last, but the bright bowed head forbade a kiss. "My darling, what in the world has happened?" An alien voice came from the hidden lips. "I am not your darling, Denis." "No; that I have seen!" he cried bitterly, releasing her. "You don't love me any more. I saw it in a moment ... is there anybody else?" No answer. "Are you engaged to some one else?" "No--no." "I must have the truth." "I dare not tell you the whole truth." And she drooped to break it to him. "You have nothing to fear, Nan." "I don't know how to tell you...." "I am ready for the worst." "Then ... I am married." CHAPTER XXVII THE GREAT GULF The words died away in the still air. They had been but faintly whispered, and now for many moments there was no sound at all in the quiet shelter of the trees. Then for a little the absolute silence was broken by short and laboured breathing through clenched teeth; then it became absolute as before. Denis was mastering himself as best he might; his whole being was as a knotted muscle; but by degrees that also relaxed, and he stood once more like a thing of flesh and blood, only swaying a little on his feet. But Nan had neither stirred nor made a sound. It was as though her dress supported her, as the dresses of those days almost might, yet there was never a rustle from its silken dome. And in the narrow avenue it was almost dark. "Devenish, of course?" he said at last, but so hoarsely that he had to say it twice. It was worth the effort. It made Nan look up; it brought her back to life. "Yes," she whispered in simple horror. "Yes--I am married to that villain!" Their eyes met through the dusk, as in a lane of light. His face reflected the unmixed horror so remarkable in hers. Yet already some bell was ringing in his heart. "What do you mean by that?" "I loathe him!" "Yet you are married?" She spread out her hands in a gesture that was no answer to his incredulity. Quick as thought he caught her left. "Where's the ring?" "Yours is quite safe." "But the wedding-ring--your wedding-ring?"