The things which delighted him, the long journeys, the faces of strange countries, the camp-fire, a mere spark of red light amidst black and empty silence, the hours of sleep in the open under bright stars, the cool night wind of the desert, and the work of government--all these things he had lost.

Only one thing remained to him--herself, and only, as she knew very well, herself so long as he could believe she wanted him.

And while she was still occupied with her resolve, the cab for which she waited stopped unnoticed at the door.

It was not until Durrance's servant had actually rung the bell that her attention was again attracted to the street.
"He has come!" she said with a start.
Durrance, it was true, was not particularly acute; he had never been inquisitive; he took his friends as he found them; he put them under no microscope.

It would have been easy at any time, Ethne reflected, to quiet his suspicions, should he have ever come to entertain any.