It contained but one sentence: "If you still wish for freedom, you can find it down by the river at any hour to-night." There was no signature of any sort; none was needed, she hid the message away again, and for the rest of the afternoon she was almost feverishly gay to hide the turmoil of indecision at her heart.
She saw little of Caryl after luncheon, but he re-appeared again in time to drive her back in the dog-cart as they had come.

She found him very quiet and preoccupied, on the return journey, but his presence no longer dismayed her.

It was the consciousness that a way of escape was open to her that emboldened her.
They were nearing the end of the drive, when he at length laid aside his preoccupation and spoke: "Have you made up your mind yet ?" That query of his was the turning point with her.

Had he shown the smallest sign of relenting from his grim purpose, had he so much as couched his question in terms of kindness, he might have melted her even then; for she was impulsive ever and quick to respond to any warmth.

But the coldness of his question, the unyielding mastery of his manner, impelled her to final rebellion.