that she was looking uncommonly well just now. He saw her, in white, cross the lawn: a springy motion, a quick lift, turn of the head. She looked a girl, and a pretty one at that. His heart warmed to her. How could a man have a better wife than that? Success without effort again! There it was. The evening came, the close of a hot and airless day. The sun set heavy and red. A bluish mist seemed to steal out of the forest and shroud the house. The terrace was not used after dinner, and when the men joined Vera and her in the drawing-room Lord Considine, who had proposed a game of chess to James at the table, now came forward with board and box of men. Nugent, as usual, had disappeared. "He's dormant when there's no hunting," his wife explained. "He has nothing to kill and hates his fellow-creatures." "Then," said James, "he might kill some of them. I could furnish him with a rough list." Lucy felt restless and strayed about the room, looking at things here and there without seeing them. Vera watched her, saw her wander to the open window and stand there looking gravely into the dark. She said nothing, and presently Lucy stepped out and disappeared. Vera, with raised eyebrows and a half smile, resumed her book. Lucy was now high-hearted on her quest--her quest and mission. It was to be this once, and for the last time. She followed the peony path from the lake to the thicket, entered among the trees and pushed her way forward. Long before she reached the scene of last night's wonder she was a prisoner, her lips a prize. There was very little disguise left now. For a full time they clung together and loved without words; but then he spoke. "So you came! I hoped, I waited, I thought that you might. Oh, my Lucy, what a fact for me!" She answered simply and gently, "I came--I had to come--but--" "Well, my love?" "Ah," she said, "but this must be for the last time." This was not taken as she had meant it to be. Love began again. Then he said, "That's absurd." "No, no," she protested, "it's right. It must be so. You would not have me do anything else." "And I must go?" "Yes, indeed, you must go now." "Not yet, Lucy. Soon." "No, at once," she told him. "The last time is come, and gone. You must not keep me." "Let me talk to you, so, for a few minutes. There's everything to say." "No," she said, "tell me nothing. I dare not know it. Please let me go now." "A last time, then, Lucy." She yielded her lips, but unwillingly; for now her mind was made up. The thing had to be done, and the sooner the better. "Ah," he said, "how can I let you go?" "Easily," she answered, "when I ask you"; and was unanswerable. She forced herself free, and stood undecided. "You needn't go back yet," he said, but she thought she must. "I came out alone," she told him, "but Vera was in the room. So were the others. I don't know what they will think." "Nothing at all," he said. "Well, everything shall be as you wish. You see that you have only to name your wish."