Page:Wildwildheart00reesiala.pdf/182

her had been started by Mrs. Pratt, probably it was that which was upsetting him. But surely these idle rumors of scandal were not of sufficient importance to bring him forty miles down the coast from Tirau?

Continually her thoughts turned back to Rodney Marsh, and each time as she realized this she resolutely forced her mind to the contemplation of her work—her future plans. The little love dream was at an end; and it was far better that it should be so; she told herself that a marriage of this sort might very easily end in disaster, and yet her heart cried out against this conventional pronouncement. Was life to be lived solely by the light of practical common sense? Was every situation that was difficult to be evaded? Must one never hazard anything? Never take the chance of a fall? Surely that would rule out all adventure—all romance.

Again she pulled herself up sharply. As Rodney Marsh had no intention of asking her to be his wife, these reflections were superfluous. Marriage wasn’t for her—she would be a successful business woman, leading a busy, independent life, and finding happiness in her work, her friendships, and her books.

She gave a quick little sigh, and glanced at her watch. Nearly eight o’clock! Dick Holmes should be here directly—and as the thought came to her a knock sounded at the outer door.

She passed through the shop to answer it, and found outside, not Holmes, but a boy with a note. “Mr. Holmes told me to bring it to you,” he said, and the next moment he was gone.

In the twilight of her showroom, Ann tore open the envelope: