She looked up, to see Varick's tall figure hurrying towards her.
They met by the moat bridge, and as he came up to her he saw her pull forward the veil which, neatly arranged round the rim of her small felt hat, was not really meant to cover her face.
"Let's walk down here for a moment," he said abruptly.

"I want to ask you a question, Blanche." They stepped off the carriage road on to the grass, and, walking on a few paces, stood together at the exact spot from which Varick, on Christmas Eve, had looked at the house before him with such exultant eyes.
Three weeks ago Wyndfell Hall had appeared kindly and welcoming, as well as mysteriously beautiful, with its old diamond-paned windows all aglow.
Now, in the wintry daylight, the ancient dwelling house still looked mysteriously beautiful; but there was something cold, menacing, forlorn in its appearance.

The windows looked like blind eyes....
He turned on her suddenly, and held out the telegram she had received that morning.
"One of the servants picked this up on the breakfast table and brought it to me.

What the devil does it mean?
If Mark Gifford wanted to see you why couldn't he come here ?" Blanche looked at him dumbly.

Had her life depended on her speaking she could not have spoken just then.
He went on: "Have you seen Gifford?
Did he say anything about me ?" He uttered the words with a kind of breathless haste.