Rachel turned on him a grievous look which I have never forgotten, and pushed him from her with both her hands back into the room.

Then she glanced at me with a mute entreaty, and I stepped with her out of the window, and we went across the lawn and through the trees, and away along all the old tracks to the farm, following Jane, who, knowing we were behind her, flew like the wind, without once looking back.

We soon lost her, for we often paused to pant and lean against one another for a moment's respite in this strange memorable race.

We did not speak, but I looked at Rachel, and she was like a poor lily soiled and crushed by the storm, with her white dress trailing through the dust, and her satin shoes torn on her feet.

But that was nothing.