She started. A horse was coming up the hill, his hoofs thudding softly in the loose shale. The rider dismounted at the porch. A moment later, crop in hand, he passed beneath her window. The light fell on his face. Barbara's heart bounded and then stood still, for she recognized him. "There has never been another woman to me, Barbara!" Mocking voices seemed to shout it satirically from the emptiness, and against the dark Haru's face rose up before her. She shivered. She went in and closed the window, drawing down the blind with a nervous haste. But she could not shut out that face, and in spite of herself her thoughts had their will with her. What was Daunt doing there? Patsy had said that he was in Chuzenji. But that was only a handful of miles away. He looked worn and older--he had been suffering, too! She hugged this knowledge to her heart. He knew, of course, why she had ended it all--_Haru would have told him_! She clenched her hands and began to pace up and down the room, now stopping to peer with bright miserable eyes into the mirror, now throwing herself into a chair. Once she put her hand into her bosom, groping for her father's picture--to withdraw it with an added pang. For she had forgotten; she had lost the locket the afternoon of her drive with Patricia. A knock came at the door, and a bell-boy handed her a penciled note. She read it wonderingly, then, hastily smoothing her hair, went quickly along the hall to the sitting-room. In the dimly lighted room a figure came toward her from the shadow. It was Philip Ware. CHAPTER XLII PHIL MAKES AN APPEAL The youth who stood before her now, however, was not the Phil Barbara had seen at Mukojima. There was no hint of spruce grooming in his attire; it was overlaid with the dust and grime of the road. The jaunty, self-satisfied look was ravaged by something cringing, that suggested sleeplessness and undefined anxiety. Why should he come at such an hour--and to her? The distaste which her first view of him had inspired returned with added force as she felt the touch of his hand and heard herself say: "So this is 'Phil.' I have often heard of you from your brother. Have you seen him?" "No," he said. "I don't want him to know I'm here--yet. I--I came to see you." He paused, twisting his cloth cap in his fingers.