Mrs. Herrick looked steadily at this unanswerable argument. Her hold on Flora's hand relaxed, but she did not quite release it. Her brows drew together. "You are quite sure you must go?" Flora nodded. She was speechless. "Did Mrs. Britton know you were coming to me?" "No. She doesn't even know that I am going out of town. She must not," Flora protested. "Indeed she must. You must not place yourself in such a false position. Write her and tell her you are going to San Mateo with me." "Oh, if you would!" Tears sprang to Flora's eyes. "But will you, even if I can't tell you anything?" "I shall not ask you anything. Now write her immediately. You can do it here while I am getting ready." She had taken authoritative command of the details of their expedition, and Flora willingly obeyed her. She was still trembling from the stress of their interview, and she blinked back tears before she was able to see what she was writing. It had all been brought about more quickly and completely than she had hoped, but it was in her mind all the while she indited her message to Clara, that Kerr, for whom it had been accomplished, was not yet informed of the existence of the scheme, or the part of guest he was to play. Yet she was sure that if she asked he would be promptly there. She wrote to him briefly: At San Mateo, at the Herricks'. I want you there to-night. I have made up my mind. As she was sealing it she started at a step approaching in the hall. She had wanted to conceal that betraying letter before Mrs. Herrick came back. She glanced quickly behind her, and saw standing between the half-open folding doors, the slim figure of a girl--slimmer, younger even than the one who had passed her at the gate, but like her, with the same large eyes, the same small indeterminate chin. Just at the chin the likeness to Mrs. Herrick failed with the strength of her last generation--but the eyes were perfect; and they gazed at Flora wondering. With the sixth sense of youth they recognized the enactment of something strange and thrilling. Another instant and Mrs. Herrick's presence dawned behind her daughter--and her voice--"Why, child, what are you doing there?"--and her hands seemed apprehensive in their haste to hurry the child away, as if, truly, in this drawing-room, for the first time, something was dangerous. XXI THE HOUSE OF QUIET The day which had dawned so still and gloomy was wakening to something like wildness, threatening, brightening, gusty, when they stepped out of the train upon the platform of the San Mateo station. Clouds were piling gray and castle-like from the east up toward the zenith, and dark fragments kept tearing off the edges and spinning away across the sky. But between them the bright face of the sun flashed out with double splendor, and the thinned atmosphere made the sky seem high and far, and all form beneath it clarified and intense.