It was late in the afternoon of the fourth day that the response came to her letter--and in a form in which she least expected it. She had been out in the garden, gathering snowdrops, and was returning to the house, her hands filled with the white blossom of spring, when she lifted her eyes to find Brett Forrester standing directly in her path. Her heart gave a great terrified leap. She had pictured him as far enough away, and his appearance was utterly unexpected. Moreover, the very sight of him brought back a swift rush of painful memories, and involuntarily she recoiled a little. He regarded her quizzically. "You don't seem exactly pleased to see me," he observed. "I'm--I'm surprised, that's all," she said hastily. "I didn't--I wasn't expecting you." Transferring her harvest of snowdrops to one hand, she extended the other towards him. "Not expecting me?" he returned, when they had shaken hands. "After the letter you wrote me?" "I thought you would write first, suggesting where we could meet." "I should have thought you would have known me better by this time," he commented dryly, as he turned and walked beside her up the path to the house. "I never waste time in preliminaries. You said you wanted to see me--so here I am." Ann made no response--for the simple reason that she couldn't think of one to make. Brett always appeared to cut the ground from under one's feet, so to speak--certainly as regards the small change of social intercourse. Even behind his lightest remarks one seemed able to hear the threatening rumble of the volcano. "What was it you wanted to see me about?" he continued. "I'll tell you. Come in, will you?" By this time they had reached the house and Ann led the way into the living-room. She was conscious of an acute feeling of trepidation and, by way of postponing the evil moment, paused to put her snowdrops in water in a bowl which she had left filled in readiness on the table. "Are you staying at White Windows?" she asked, as she arranged the flowers with quick, nervous touches. "I am not," replied Brett. "I gathered, during the last conversation I held with my revered aunt, that my welcome had worn a trifle thin--as you are doubtless aware," he concluded mockingly. "Then--then where--how did you come here?"--in some astonishment. "I came on the _Sphinx_. I am at present living on board, and at the moment she is anchored in Silverquay bay. Any other questions?" Ann flushed hotly. "I beg your pardon," she said with downcast eyes. "I didn't mean to be inquisitive, only naturally I--I rather wondered where you had sprung from. You _did_ arrive somewhat suddenly, you know."