"Very well, write to me then." And she added drily, "But it will be about--other things." And again Durrance read into her words the interpretation he desired; and again she meant just what she said, and not a word more.
She stood where he left her, a tall, strong-limbed figure of womanhood, until he was gone out of sight.

Then she climbed down to the house, and going into her room took one of her violins from its case.

But it was the violin which Durrance had given to her, and before she had touched the strings with her bow she recognised it and put it suddenly away from her in its case.

She snapped the case to.

For a few moments she sat motionless in her chair, then she quickly crossed the room, and, taking her keys, unlocked a drawer.