The Fête when darkness began to fall reached its conclusion in outdoor dancing, on the lawn of the castle which had been the scene all day—she like the other girls had stayed on; though not, like Kathie, up to the end. She left on an impulse. Music followed her over the empty country as she bicycled home through the lanes between there and Montefort; dust wraithlike rose from under her wheels. Honeysuckle sweetened the deepening hedges, from beyond which breathed distances cool with hay. The land had not yet composed itself quite to sleep, for light was not gone and might never go from the sky. The air through which she was swiftly passing was mauve, and tense with suspended dew: her own beautiful restlessness was everywhere. From somewhere out behind Montefort, she at one time imagined she heard a call—she unchained the gates and rode up the avenue. The house, nothing as she approached it but a black outline, was deserted—doors and windows open, but not a lamp lit.
