But something in his face checked her. "No one will ever drink out of that glass again," he said. "Are you ready? Shall we go in the garden for a breath of air?" She went with him, but on the terrace outside he stopped impulsively. "Avery darling, I don't mean to be a selfish beast; but I've got to prowl for a bit. Would you rather go to bed?" His arm was round her; she leaned against him half-laughing. "Do you know, dear, that bedroom frightens me with its magnificence! Don't prowl too long!" He bent to her swiftly. "Avery! Do you want me?" "Just to scare away the bogies," she made answer, with a lightness that scarcely veiled a deeper feeling. "And when you've done that--quite thoroughly--perhaps--" She stopped. "Perhaps--" whispered Piers. "Perhaps I'll tell you a secret," she said still lightly. "By the way, dear, I found a letter from Mr. Crowther waiting for me. I put it in your room for you to read. He writes so kindly. Wouldn't you like him to be our first visitor?" There was a moment's silence before Piers made answer. "To be sure," he said then. "We mustn't forget Crowther. You wrote and told him everything, I suppose?" "Yes, everything. He seems very fond of you, Piers. But you must read his letter. It concerns you quite as much as it does me. There! I am going. Good-bye! Come up soon!" She patted his shoulder and turned away. Somehow it had not been easy to speak of Crowther. She had known that in doing so she had introduced an unwelcome subject. But Crowther was too great a friend to ignore. She felt that she had treated him somewhat casually already; for it was only the previous week that she had written to tell him of her marriage. Crowther was in town, studying hard for an examination, and she felt convinced that he would be willing to pay them a visit. She also knew that for some reason Piers was reluctant to ask him, but she felt that that fact ought not to influence her. For she owed a debt of gratitude to Crowther which she could never forget. But all thought of Crowther faded from her mind when she found herself once more in that eerie, tapestry-hung bedroom. The place had been lighted with candles, but they only seemed to emphasize the gloom. She wondered how often the last Lady Evesham--the warm-blooded, passionate Italian woman with her love of the sun and all things beautiful--had stood as she stood now and shuddered at the dreary splendour of her surroundings. How homesick she must have been, Avery thought to herself, as she undressed in the flickering candle-light! How her soul must have yearned for the glittering Southern life she had left!