— IV —SIR PHILIP FORD
Until the retreating footsteps had altogether died away, Doris scarcely dared to breathe. One tread ceased first; the lady’s, as she passed into the house. The other continued to be audible for some moments, as the man made the best of his, doubtless, more or less erratic way along the winding paths out of the grounds. When everything was perfectly still, Doris drew a long breath; it seemed to her that she had been nearly stifled. Then she sat upon the narrow wooden seat; it was not strange that she felt stiff. Her uncomfortable recumbent attitude had continued much longer than she supposed. Again she drew a long draught of air into her lungs; she was conscious of an unpleasant feeling of oppression. Then, staring straight in front of her into the darkness, she tried
