Chapter Five
A RAPTUROUS HOUR WHICH WAS RUDELY INTERRUPTED
When Thorndyke got out of doors the bright
morning had changed into a cold, determined downpour
of rain. The gray mists hung over the city
at the foot of the hill, and the summit of the monument
was obscured by sullen driving clouds.
Thorndyke's spirits rose as he surveyed the gloomy
prospect. It was not much of an afternoon for visiting—he
should find Constance alone.
He went to his rooms, dressed, and before five was at Constance Maitland's door. The afternoon had grown worse. A sad northeast wind had been added to the rain; the lilac-bushes in the little lawn at the side of the house drooped forlornly, and the dejected syringas looked like young ladies caught out in the rain in their ball-gowns.
The rain, the cold, and the wind outside was the best possible foil for the fire-lighted and flower-
