The dimples lingered, and Anne bent suddenly and kissed them. "Dear little Dot!" she said. Instantly Dot's arms were very tightly round her. "Anne darling, I've got something to tell you--something you very possibly won't quite like. You won't be vexed any, will you?" "Not any," smiled Anne. "No, but it isn't a small thing. It--it's rather immense. But Bertie said I was to tell you, because you are not to be taken by surprise again. He doesn't think it fair, and of course he's right." "What is it, dear?" said Anne. The smile had gone from her face, but her eyes were steadfast and very still--the eyes of a woman who had waited all her life. "My dear," said Dot, holding her closely, "it's only that Bertie didn't go up to town on business. It was to meet someone, and--and that someone will be with him when he comes back. I promised Bertie to tell you, but you were so late getting here I was afraid I shouldn't have time. Oh, Anne dear, I do hope you don't mind." Dot's face, a guilty scarlet, was hidden in Anne's shoulder. Anne's hand, very quiet and steady, came up and began to stroke the fluffy hair that blew against her neck. But she said nothing. It was Dot who remorsefully broke the silence. "I feel such a beast, Anne, but really I had no hand in it this time. He wrote to Bertie yesterday from town. He hasn't been in England for over a year, and he wanted to know if he could come to us. Bertie went up this morning to see him and bring him back. I thought of coming round to you, but Bertie seemed to think I had better wait and tell you when you came. I hoped you would have come earlier, so that I would have had more time to tell you about it. Dear, do tell me it's all right." "It is all right," Anne said, and with the words she smiled again though her face was pale. "It is quite all right, Dot dear. Don't be anxious." Dot looked up with a start. "That's the motor coming now. Oh, Anne, I've only told you just in time!" She was quivering with excitement. It seemed as if she were far the more agitated of the two. For Anne was calm to all outward appearance, quiet and stately and unafraid. Only the hand that grasped Dot's was cold--cold as ice. The motor was rapidly approaching. They stood by the gate and heard the buzzing of the engine, the rush of the wheels, and then the quick, gay blasts of the horn by which Bertie always announced his coming to his wife. A moment more and the car whizzed into the drive. There came a yell of welcome from Bertie at the wheel and the instant checking of the motor. And the man beside Bertie leaned swiftly forward, bareheaded, and looked straight into Anne's white face. She did not know how she met his look. It seemed to pierce her. But she was nerved for the ordeal, and she moved towards him with outstretched hand.