Where is your father, Elfride ?' 'Somewhere in the kitchen garden, I think,' she replied.

'That is his favourite evening retreat.

I will leave you now.

Say all that's to be said--do all there is to be done.

Think of me waiting anxiously for the end.' And she re-entered the house.
She waited in the drawing-room, watching the lights sink to shadows, the shadows sink to darkness, until her impatience to know what had occurred in the garden could no longer be controlled.