or recall. Instead, she said once more, this time pleadingly:
"Oh, go! please go—I want to be alone."
He obeyed her—softly opened the door into the hall, put on his coat, and let himself out into the cold and fog-bedewed night. As he fumbled with the gate he heard a quick, swinging step coming from the darkened end of the street. It approached rapidly, and into the dense aureole of light shed by a lamp half-way up the block, a tall, muscular figure emerged from the surrounding blackness. Gault recognized the walk and the square, erect shoulders. With as little noise as possible he opened the gate, and, turning in the opposite direction, passed into the darkness with a stealthy tread.
The colonel let himself in with his latch-key, pulled off his coat in the hall, and entered the drawing-room with the buoyancy that characterized all his movements. As was often the case in these days of prosperity, he carried a paper bag full of fruit and a box of candy for Viola.
To his eye, dulled by the darkness without, the room looked brilliantly illuminated and seemed to welcome him with the warm and cheery note of home. Viola was standing with her back to him, her elbow on the chimney-piece. When she heard his step on the walk she had made a violent effort to control herself,
