They drove back in silence, except for her occasional directions about the road. Her jaw was set like a little vise. Never again, she was saying to herself, would she allow herself to be a passenger. Hereafter she would control. It didn't matter what happened to you, if you were master of your own emotions. She remembered once that the husband of a friend of hers had caught her in his arms in the anteroom of a box at the opera during the darkness of a Wagnerian performance. She had felt like frozen steel--so sure of herself that she hardly hated the man--she felt more inclined to laugh at him. But this man who hadn't touched her, left her feeling outraged, humiliated--because she had wanted him to kiss her, to crush her to him---- They were at her door. She stepped out on the broad flat stones, under the trellis on which the grapevines grew so thickly that not even the flood of moonlight could penetrate the thick mass of verdure. The air was full of the smell of grapes. She knew he was following her. Suddenly she felt his hand, firm and confident on her shoulder, stopping her, turning her round. She did not resist him--she felt neither resistant nor acquiescent--only that it was all inevitable. He took her head in his two hands, looking in the dark and half drawing her to him, half bending down he pressed his lips hard against hers. She felt herself held closely in his arms; her will dissolved, her head drooped against him. Then inside the house the steps of the faithful Morson could be heard. He must have been waiting for the sound of an approaching motor. The door opened--letting a great patch of yellow lamp light fall on the misty moonlight. Morson peered out; for a moment he thought he must have been mistaken; there appeared to be no one there. Then his young mistress, very erect, stepped out from the shadow. A tall gentleman, a stranger to Morson, said in a voice noticeably low and vibrant: "At four to-morrow." There was a pause. Morson holding the door open thought at first that Miss Thorne had not heard, and then she shocked him by her answer. "No, don't come," she said. "I don't want you to come." She walked into the house, and indicated that he might shut the door. As he bolted it he could hear the motor moving away down the drive. Turning from the door, he saw Miss Thorne standing still in the middle of the hall, as if she too were listening to the lessening drum of the engine. There was a long pause, and then Morson said: "Shall I put out the lights, Miss?" She nodded and went slowly upstairs, like a person in a trance. She seemed hardly aware of Evans waiting to undress her, but stood still in her bedroom, as she had stood in the hall, staring blankly in front of her. Evans took her cloak from her shoulder. "It's quite wet, Miss," she said, "as if it had been dipped in the sea and your hair, too."