Not one word did she utter in reply to the woman's question.

She hurried with the keen desperation of despair, lest Ronald should return and find her still there.
Soon after noon, and while Ronald lingered with some friends upon the steps of the Hotel d'Italia, his wife reached the busy railway station at Florence.

She had money enough to take her home, but none to spare.
She knew no rest; every moment seemed like an age to her, until the train was in motion, and fair, sunny Florence left far behind.
Without the stimulus of anger Dora would have shrunk in terror from the thought of a long journey alone--she who had never been without the escort of a kind and attentive husband.

But no prospect daunted her now--the wide seas, the dangers of rail and road had no terror for her.
She was flying in hot haste and anger from one who had said before her rival that he never wished to see her face again.
* * * * * The sun shining so brightly on the waters of the Arno lingered almost lovingly on the fair, quiet English landscape.

Far down in the fertile and beautiful county of Kent, where the broad channel washes the shore, stands the pretty, almost unknown village of Knutsford.
The world is full of beauty, every country has its share Switzerland its snow-clad mountains, Germany its dark woods and broad streams, France its sunny plains, Italy its "thousand charms of Nature and Art;" but for quiet, tranquil loveliness, for calm, fair beauty, looking always fresh from the mighty hand that created it, there is nothing like English scenery.
The white cliffs of Knutsford, like "grand giants," ran along the shore; there was a broad stretch of yellow sand, hidden when the tide was in, shining and firm when it ebbed.