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A dressing-room then. “Fortunately I believe that the relationship is not generally known. He turned round toward her and found her looking at him and standing very still. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. ” The change in Lady Ferringhall’s manner was subtle but unmistakable. A mutual recognition took place at the same instant between the stranger and this individual. She walked with an easy quickness down the Avenue and through the proletarian portion of Morningside Park, and crossing these fields came into a pretty overhung lane that led toward Caddington and the Downs. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. The envelope might contain only a request as to what he wanted done with the manuscripts. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account.
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