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“You’ll only disturb them—come along.”

Vera’s tone was imperious, but Holmes, used to this note in her voice, calmly went on filling his pipe without moving. Waring had reached the steps leading down from the first terrace. Vera was close behind him, and Ann straggled along rather undecidedly in the rear. Somehow she knew that Mrs. Holmes didn’t want her. But could she turn back now and resume her seat on the veranda beside Mr. Holmes? That would look rather queer and pointed.

“We’re waiting for you, Miss Merrill.”

Waring’s voice resolved her doubt, and she moved forward. The man had opened the big gate at the end of the drive, and Mrs. Holmes had already passed through. As Ann came close beside him, Waring whispered: “I engineered this to get a chance to speak to you alone. I’ll join you later.”

Ann walked on. She had made no reply, and she was furiously annoyed with herself because that urgent whisper had had the effect of quickening the beat of her heart. The impertinence of the man! To ignore her publicly, and then to imagine that she would jump at the chance of this clandestine flirtation! She wouldn’t! She wouldn’t! But what was it he wanted to say to her? Ann walked on a prey to varied feelings. She knew quite well that she didn’t care for Waring—not in the sense of affection and trust—but she did find his presence and this covert love-making exciting. And she hated herself for finding it so.

The attraction was entirely physical, but it was potent. What must she do? Ann found no answer to her questions; so she walked on quietly beside Mrs. Holmes until they came to the cottage, beyond which