“There’s a verse in the Bible—do you ever read the Bible, Henry? I don’t, but I remember this verse; one was taught it as a child. ‘Let not the sun go down upon your wrath.’ I let the moon rise and go down on mine.” She spoke very, very quietly. “Anthony stood there, just by that urn. He said, ‘You’ll have all the rest of your life to be sorry in....’ That was the last thing he said to me. He never forgave, and he never wrote. I didn’t think any man would let me go so easily, so I married John Heritage to show that I didn’t care. And, whilst we were on our honeymoon, I saw Anthony’s name in the list of missing. Now, do you wonder that I hate you for coming here, and for being alive, and taking Tony’s place? And do you wonder that there are times when I hate everything so much that I’d like well enough to see this whole sorry scheme shattered to bits—if it could be done?” “I’m not so keen on this shattering business, Raymond,” said Henry. “Don’t you think there’s been about enough of it? There are a lot of rotten things, and a lot of good things, and they’re all mixed up. If you start shattering, the odds are you bring down everything together.” “Well?” said Raymond, just one word, cold and still. There was a little pause. Then she laughed. “Is Henry also among the preachers?” she said mockingly. “You should take Orders; a surplice would be becoming.” Henry was annoyed to feel that he was flushing. “Shall I go on preaching?” he said, and as he spoke, Mr. Ember came through the open glass door with a cloak over his arm. “I am a relief expedition,” he announced. “You must be frozen. Never trust a moonlight night.” He put the wrap about Raymond’s shoulders, but she did not fasten it. “I’m coming in,” she said. She and Ember passed into the lighted room. Henry stood still for a minute, listened acutely; then he followed them. There was a hedge of stiffly growing veronica bushes at the foot of the terrace wall. After Henry had gone in, the man called George Patterson came out from behind the bushes at the far end of the terrace. He walked slowly with a dragging step, keeping in the shadow of the house, and he made his way to the far end of the north wing. Inside the Yellow Drawing-Room Henry was bidding his hostess good-night, and announcing his intention of taking a moonlight stroll. Presently he emerged upon the terrace, descended the steps on the right, and made his way in the direction taken by George Patterson. CHAPTER IX