THE SILVER FOX 163 



under its sunburn and freckles, except where 

 the skin below the eyes showed a lavender 

 tinge ; the eyes themselves had a dry stare 

 in them, yet there was nothing random or 

 ungoverned about her. Grief drives the 

 active to activity, and perhaps the long- 

 toils of the night, when successive candles 

 found her still sweeping and washing in 

 preparation for the wake and the inquest, 

 had saved her from the reaction from her 

 outburst in the wood ; perhaps passion is 

 normal and without reaction in those whose 

 hair is truly red. 



The wind soothed her aching head, and 

 she went slowly on and sat down on a stone, 

 with the empty cup and saucer in her lap, 

 looking away up the slope to where a ridge 

 of hill was visible through the soft move- 

 ment of the mist. She did not at first 

 observe that a grey animal with a black 

 muzzle had leaped on to the loose wall that 

 surrounded the field she was in, and was 

 crouching and looking at her intently. It 

 jumped down with exquisite lightness, a 



