He looked impatiently towards the door, and longed for the return of his late companion that he might continue his half-laughing flirtation.

Then he remembered the album still upon his knee, and opened it quickly.

He had dabbled a little in photography; he would find something here to keep his thoughts from the forbidden place.

And he did indeed find something--something which set his heart thumping, and drew all the colour, which the sun and vigorous exercise had brought, from his cheeks; something at which he stared with wide-open eyes, which he held before him with trembling, nerveless fingers.

The picture of a woman! The picture of her! It had lain loose in the book, with its back towards him.