When more than halfway to the house, she heard the sound of wheels. Dick Wantele and Hew Lingard were coming back an hour sooner than they were expected. She was glad it was so dark--but for that they must see her. She waited till the dogcart flashed past within two or three yards of the path on which she stood. It looked as if Wantele was urging his eager horse, already within sight of his stable, to go faster. Jane drew further into the underwood. She saw, as if the scene were actually before her, what would happen if she continued her way on into the house. Tea was now served in Athena's boudoir instead of in the Greek Room. There the four of them, Jane, Athena, and the two men, came together each afternoon. Dick never stayed long. After a few minutes he would go to Richard, leaving the others--a strange unnatural trio,--till Jane also escaped, sometimes to sit with her host, oftener to some place where she could be alone. This was what happened every day; and now she suddenly made up her mind that it should never happen again. It was her heart, her mind, which was sick and tired, not her body. It would do her good to go on walking till the time came when she could creep quietly into the house and go up to her room. Athena and Hew would think, if they thought of her at all, that she had stayed on for tea with Mabel Digby.... All at once, out of the darkness, she heard a familiar voice: "Hullo, Jane! You've managed to travel a good way in ten minutes. I don't think it is ten minutes since we drove by. I thought I'd lost you!" It was Dick Wantele, a little breathless, a little excited by the chase. "Then you saw I was there?" "I always see you, Jane." He spoke quite lightly, but Jane Oglander felt touched--horribly touched. The tears came into her eyes for the first time that day. Dick, and Dick's friendship, was all that remained to her--now. "Did it all go off quite right? Had you a good time?" she made a valiant effort to control herself. "A very good time! The duchess is most anxious General Lingard should go on straight there after leaving here." She felt the underlying, criticising dislike of Lingard in the tone in which Wantele uttered the words, and she felt troubled. Suddenly she stumbled, and her companion, putting out his thin hand, grasped her arm. "Jane," he said quickly, "wait a moment! It's not cold. I want to say something to you, and I'd rather say it out here, where no one can interrupt us, than indoors." He took his hand from her arm. "I trust to your--your kindness not to take offence." "I shan't be offended, but--but must you speak to me, Dick? I've been so grateful to you for not speaking." "Yes, I must speak. It's been cowardly of me not to do it before. It's about Lingard, Jane." He waited a moment, but she made no movement.