I. THE SHADOW

Hubert Grant stood on the veranda looking over the garden at Ledge Point. Just for the moment he was glad enough to be alone. He wanted to stand there and contemplate his new possession. Everything there was his–the rainbow trout in the pool in the Dutch garden, the starry flowers of the anemones in the larch woods behind the house. And he had paid for it all with his own hard- earned money!

Ledge Point was his ideal of what a country retreat should be. The house was modern, no doubt, but the fact had its advantages, and the rambling white front was covered with a tender green that presently would bear its tribute of blossoms. The big houseplace opened on two sides into a conservatory where the flowers gleamed all the year round. Here were treasures of oak and china and silver gathered by the late owner for many years. To the left was a cosy study; on the right a drawing-room in white and carmine charmingly furnished. Grant’s eyes softened a little as he thought of the drawing-room. May Leverton would be presiding over that some of these early days.

Grant had bought the place as much for her as for himself. He had purchased it only a few days before just as it stood, from his partner old Paul Spencer, and he had paid for it with a cheque drawn upon his own private account.

“I’m selling it you cheap,” Mr. Spencer had said. “Four thousand pounds is very little. The house cost more than that, to say nothing of the furniture. Ledge Point has been a hobby of mine, as you know, but I shall not need it any more. My doctor tells me that I must live almost enti