Wheel of Stars Read Online Free Page A

at intervals, and a Mr. Warren, a summer visitor nearly as reclusive as the Lyles themselves, reputed to be a writer and collector of books.
    She swallowed and then held firmly to her newly found boldness. “I would be very pleased. These books,” she turned and swept them off the shelf behind her desk, “I was going to return them in the Friday delivery. But I shall call this afternoon and ask the loan extended for two weeks. At the same time I shall order the others—”
    “Thank you.” Lady Lyle nodded as if something momentous had never happened at all—as if it were very usual that the village librarian be personally invited to a house which had been a mystery for generations. “We dine at seven. My—my young kinsman will call for you.”
    “Oh, no!” Gwennan was jarred out of her carefully built shell. “I mean—there is no need for that. I am used to walking and certainly it is not far.”
    The tall woman no longer smiled. Her eyeswere still searching—watching Gwennan closely from under the shadow of the hood she had just adjusted to cover her head once again. “You do not find walking after dark in the lane disturbing?”
    Gwennan laughed. “Of course not! Everyone walks, especially with gas prices as high as they are now. Anyway I do not have a car—”
    Lady Lyle smiled once more. “But, of course. The frugal life—waste not, want not. In this modern world that is refreshing. Very well, if that is what you wish. Only, Miss Daggert, I would suggest that you do keep to the lanes—to cross fields in the early dark—”
    Gwennan’s hands tightened on the paper with the list. A mild way of commenting on her trespass? She must keep to her resolution of the morning then—no more visits to the stones—no matter how strongly they seemed to draw her. The Lyles need never again fear she would intrude upon their territory.
    “The lanes, yes,” she made careful answer. “They have—”
    “No traps.” She was astounded at that odd comment. Lady Lyle added nothing to that. Sweeping up the books, she had turned and gone, before the girl could thank her.
    In Gwennan, surprise at that unlooked-for and abrupt invitation turned to an eagerness which she had not expected as the day passed. Lyle House was said to display a number of treasures brought back from the many journeys of the family. Stevens had several times spoken of it asa veritable museum. She longed to see that for herself. But she eyed her small wardrobe with open dissatisfaction when it came time to dress.
    For all she knew the Lyles might live as formally as those rare and strange creatures she had viewed in some of the magazines the summer people donated to the library at intervals. She had only one good suit, no dress really suitable for such an occasion.
    Now she zipped up the plaid skirt, tucked in the too-often-wandering tails of the blouse, and shrugged on the velvet jacket which was her one extravagance, meant to do duty for years to come. The soft material was of a warm rust shade she delighted in, and she smoothed its sleeves before she applied her finishing touch—fastening down the small frill at the blouse throat with the cameo which Miss Nessa had left her.
    By six the daylight had already deepened into dusk. When she set out at half past that hour Gwennan put her flashlight into the deep pocket of her outer coat. She was glad of her boots, and as the wind plucked at the edge of her skirt she wished she had a long cloak like Lady Lyle’s.
    Miss Nessa’s house was on the edge of the slowly growing town. Once it had been a farm dwelling. There were no street lights here, and out of habit Gwennan’s eyes adjusted to the gloom. So she did not use the torch yet as she followed the road. Any traffic this far out was limited, and she could easily hear a car coming.
    The paved street changed abruptly into a narrower road which had been surfaced when the Lyles brought the first motor car into Water-bridgeat the time of Gwennan’s