Although her skin was delicately warmed and coloured by the genial Southern sun, the becoming tan could not hide the thinness of the once rounded cheeks, nor disguise the hopeless droop of the lips which had been used to smile so readily. Toni looked, indeed, the ghost of her former self as she sat gazing out over the Mediterranean; and it was very evident that whatever had been the result of her flight to those she had left behind, her own happiness had suffered a disastrous eclipse.
After all, her disappearance had been easily arranged. On that foggy night when she had fled from Leonard Dowson, terrified by the spectre of a future life which his words had evoked, she had run, without in the least realizing her direction, straight to the railway station; and the idea of London had at once presented itself to her mind. A train was just starting, and Toni hastily took a ticket and jumped into a carriage without giving herself time to think.
Arriving at the terminus she had a momentary indecision as to her next step. As she stood on the platform she felt herself to be desperately, hopelessly alone; and for one wild moment she wondered how Owen would receive her if she went back and flung herself on his mercy.
But something in her, perhaps the sturdy, independent blood of her Yorkshire ancestors, seemed to forbid such a course. She could not return, creep back to the shelter of the home she had abandoned; and even Toni's youthful optimism could not promise her a very hearty welcome when the truth of her flight should be known.
If only she had gone alone ... if there had been no man in the case to complicate matters and compromise the situation—in that first moment of despair Toni hated Leonard Dowson, loathed herself for imagining it would be possible to go away with him; and at the same time realized that whatever happened she would find it almost impossible to explain the man's introduction into the affair in any way save that which, were the story known, would be taken, perhaps naturally, for granted.
Suddenly the thought of Italy flashed into her brain, and with the thought came instant resolution.
She had still twelve pounds in her purse—more than enough to take her to Naples; and once there she could surely discover some friend of the bygone days to whom she might apply for advice as to her future maintenance.
In Italy she could live frugally, as the peasants lived; and all at once Toni felt a great nostalgia for the glowing South, with its sunshine and hot blue skies, its orange-groves, its languorous noons and warm, scented nights.
The Italian blood in her—the blood transmitted to her by her mother, spoke in its turn; and suddenly Toni felt that in that land of warmth and colour she could find the rest and peace for which her sorely-driven soul cried out....
And then the miracle happened.