"Oh, you're laughing at me--of course, of course you hear it. Why, it's as clear as--as clear as--" Her voice trailed off into silence. Quite suddenly, without any transition or warning, she knew. She could feel her heart stand perfectly still for a minute, and then plunge forward in mad flight, racing, racing--oh, it knew, too, that eager heart! She took her hand from the arm of the chair, releasing Rosemary's wrist very gently. "Yes, of course, it's the heat," she said quietly. She must be careful not to frighten them, these kind ones. "If you don't mind, Mrs. Langdon, I think that I'll go down to the gate to watch the storm burst. No, please, don't any of you come--I'll promise to change everything if I get caught--yes, everything! I won't be long; don't wait for me." She walked sedately enough until she came to the turn in the path, but after that she ran, only pausing for a minute to listen breathlessly. Oh, yes--following, following, that gigantic music! How he must be laughing at her now--blind, deaf, incredulous little fool that she had been, to doubt that Jerry would find a way! But where could he land? Not in the garden--not at the gates--oh, now she had it--the far meadow. She turned sharply; it was dark, but the path must be here. Yes, this was the wicket gate; her groping fingers were quite steady--they found the latch--released it--the gate swung to behind her flying footsteps. "Oh, Jerry, Jerry!" sang her heart. Why hadn't she worn the rose-coloured frock? It was she who would be a ghost in that trailing white thing. To the right here--yes, there was the hawthorn hedge--only a few steps more--oh, now! She stood as still as a small statue, not moving, not breathing, her hands at her heart, her face turned to the black and torn sky. Nearer, nearer, circling and darting and swooping--the gigantic humming grew louder--louder still--it swept about her thunderously, so close that she clapped her hands over her ears, but she stood her ground, exultant and undaunted. Oh, louder still--and then suddenly the storm broke. All the winds and the rains of the world were unleashed, and fell howling and shrieking upon her, she staggered under their onslaught, drenched to the bone, her dress whipping frantically about her, blinded and deafened by that tumultuous clamour. She had only one weapon against it--laughter--and she laughed now--straight into its teeth. And as though hell itself must yield to mirth, the fury wavered--failed--sank to muttering. But Janie, beaten to her knees and laughing, never even heard it die. "Jerry?" she whispered into the darkness, "Jerry?" Oh, more wonderful than wonder, he was there! She could feel him stir, even if she could not hear him--so close, so close was he that if she even reached out her hand, she could touch him. She stretched it out eagerly, but there was nothing there--only a small, remote sound of withdrawal, as though some one had moved a little.