She would go away with Leonard Dowson, thereby leaving the way open for Owen to divorce her. Her own future life occupied but the smallest fraction of her thoughts. Somehow her power of visualizing the future seemed to stop short with her departure from her home; and although she had a very clear vision of Owen, relieved from the incubus of her presence, and free to devote himself to the work which, she had persuaded herself, meant more to him than any purely domestic happiness, she never gave even a passing thought to her own existence when once she had severed the ties which bound her to the old house by the river. Very early in the morning of the day following her interview with Dowson she had posted a note to him. There was only one short sentence on the little sheet of paper--only three words; but she know it would be enough. "I will come. TONI." That was all; and yet as she wrote the little sentence, Toni had a queer, stifling sensation as though she were indeed signing her own death-warrant. The note would be delivered at lunch-time; and about two o'clock Toni began to look for an answer, though she knew it was hardly likely the young man would reply so promptly. At three o'clock she went out into the garden. Her head was throbbing painfully, her cheeks burnt with a scarlet flush, and it was surely quicksilver and not blood which ran so swiftly through her veins. The day was unseasonably warm, and a slight fog hung about, making the air damp and heavy. Owen had gone to town immediately after lunch; and Toni was inexpressibly relieved by his absence. They had barely spoken to one another to-day. Owen was suffering from one of his worst neuralgic headaches, which at all times made him feel disinclined for speech; and Toni said little because she had nothing to say. At half-past three a note was delivered to her by a lad wheeling a bicycle; and when the messenger had withdrawn, Toni opened the grey envelope with fingers that shook. Inside she found a fairly long letter, which had evidently been written in haste, for the writing was untidy, and here and there a word was almost illegible.