She read for an hour in the library, but the air was close, and she threw aside her book, drew on a light coat and went out upon the veranda.

A storm was stealing down from the hills, and the fitful wind tasted of rain.

She walked the length of the veranda several times, then paused at the farther end of it, where steps led out into the pergola.

There was still a mist of starlight, and she looked out upon the vague outlines of the garden with thoughts of its needs and the gardener's work for the morrow.

Then she was aware of a light step far out in the pergola, and listened carelessly to mark it, thinking it one of the house servants returning from a neighbor's; but the sound was furtive, and as she waited it ceased abruptly.