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Her voice breathless and shaken, she told him how June had died all that Dan Storran had learned from the doctor who had attended her. "I know I hurt her hurt her without thinking. But oh, Michael! Thank God, it wasn't through me that she died!" And Michael, as he folded his arms about her, knew that the shadow which had lain between him and the woman he loved was there no longer.
"We can afford to waste a single day better than we can afford the three or four which it would cost us if you collapsed en route," said Storran. "I shan't collapse," she protested with white lips. "So much the better. But all the same, you'll stay here till to-morrow and get a good night's rest." "I shouldn't sleep," she urged. "Let's go right on, Dan. Let's go "
"Storran of Stockleigh appears to be considerably less attractive than his name," summed up Gillian, as, half an hour later, she and Magda and Coppertop were seated round a rustic wooden table in the garden partaking of a typical Devonshire tea with its concomitants of jam and clotted cream. "Apparently," she continued, "he has married 'above him. Little Mrs.
"You look as if you were in a hurry." "I am. Don't stop me. I'm catching the boat-train." Storran pulled out his watch as he turned and fell into step beside her. "Then you've got a good half-hour to spare. No hurry," he returned placidly. Gillian glanced at the watch on her wrist. "Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully. "If so, my watch must be altogether wrong!" "Unbeliever!
"But I'm going," she said calmly. He frowned. "If Michael's not at his studio he may be anywhere!" She nodded. "I know. If so, I shall follow anywhere." Storran looked down at her and read the quiet determination in her face. "Then let me come too," he said. "Sort of courier, you know. I'd just be at hand in case of a tangle." "Oh, no! I couldn't let you. There's not the least need.
So lightly that not a board creaked beneath her step, Magda flitted down the old stairway, and, crossing the hall, felt gingerly for the massive bolt which barred the heavy oaken door. She wondered if it would slide back quietly; she rather doubted it. She remembered often enough having heard it grate into its place as Storran went his nightly round, locking up the house.
He did not see the slight figure standing just within the shade of the rose-twined arch, and Magda remained for a moment or two watching him in silence. The unbarred door was explained now. Storran had not come in at all that night. She guessed the struggle which had sent him forth to seek the utter solitude of the garden.
Although she herself, as befitted a woman whose "figure was her fortune" according to Lady Arabella, partook extremely sparingly of this hospitable meal, it somehow pleased her to see big Dan Storran come in from his work in the fields and do full justice to the substantial fare.
When the ultimate fabric is woven, and the tissue released from the loom, there will surely be no meaningless thread, sable or silver, in the consummated pattern. A few weeks after Magda's departure Gillian received a letter from Dan Storran, reminding her of her promise to let him see her and asking if she would lunch with him somewhere in town.
"Well, you expected my time to be pretty well occupied the first week or two after Magda came back, didn't you?" countered Gillian. She smiled as she spoke and proceeded leisurely to draw off her gloves, while Storran signalled to a waiter. She was really very glad to see him again.
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