For she never pictured herself as standing still to await the man she loved.
When Helene left, Valerie had the place to herself; and, without any disloyalty to the little countess, she experienced a new pleasure in the liberty of an indolence which exacted nothing of her.
She prowled around the library, luxuriously, dipping into inviting volumes; she strolled at hazard from veranda to garden, from garden to lawn, from lawn to farmyard.
About luncheon time she arrived at the house with her arms full of scented peonies, and spent a long while selecting the receptacles for them.
Luncheon was a deliciously lazy affair at which she felt at liberty to take her own time; and she did so, scanning the morning paper, which had just been delivered; making several bites of every cherry and strawberry, and being good to the three cats with asparagus ends and a saucer of chicken bouillon.
Later, reclining in the hammock, she mended a pair of brier-torn stockings; and when that thrifty and praiseworthy task was finished, she lay back and thought of Neville.
[Illustration: "She prowled around the library, luxuriously, dipping into inviting volumes"] But at what moment in any day was she ever entirely unconscious of him?
Besides, she could always think of him better--summon him nearer--visualise him more clearly, when she was afield, the blue sky above her, the green earth under foot, and companioned only by memory.
So she went to her room, put on her stout little shoes and her walking skirt; braided her hair and made of it a soft, light, lustrous turban; and taking her dog-whip, ran down stairs.
The fat old collie came wagging up to the whistle, capered clumsily as in duty bound; but before she had entirely traversed the chestnut woods he basely deserted her and waddled back to the kitchen door where a thoughtful cook and a succulent bone were combinations not unknown.
Valerie missed him presently, and whistled; but the fat sybarite, if within earshot, paid no attention; and she was left to swing her dog-whip and stroll on alone.
Her direction lay along the most inviting by-roads and paths; and she let chance direct her feet through this friendly, sunny land where one little hill was as green as another, and one little brook as clear and musical as another, and the dainty, ferny patches of woodlands resembled one another.
It was a delight to scramble over stone walls; she adored lying flat and wriggling under murderous barbed-wire, feeling the weeds brush her face.
When a brook was a little too wide to jump, it was ecstasy to attempt it.

She got both shoes wet and loved it.

Brambles plucked boldly at her skirt; wild forest blossoms timidly summoned her aside to kneel and touch them, but to let them live; squirrels threatened her and rushed madly up and down trees defying her; a redstart in vermilion and black, fussed about her where she sat, closing and spreading its ornamental tail for somebody's benefit--perhaps for hers.
[Illustration: "'Miss West!' he exclaimed.

'How on earth did you ever find your way into my woods ?'"] She was not tired; she did not suppose that she had wandered very far, but, glancing at her watch, she was surprised to find how late it was.
And she decided to return.
After she had been deciding to return for about an hour it annoyed her to find that she could not get clear of the woods.

It seemed preposterous; the woods could not be very extensive.