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tions about yourself； I suppose； but I know that your aunts hear from you from time to time and they give me news from your letters。 I hear that you are happily married and are quite settled down to your new life。 I'm very glad to hear that； although it isn't quite the life that I would have prophesied for you。 Do you like Skeaton？ I've never cared much for seaside resorts myself； but then I'm a queer cranky old man； and I deserve all I get。 I wish I could tell you something cheerful about all your friends here； but I'm afraid I can't。 Your aunt is so brave and plucky that probably she said nothing to you in her last letter about how ill she has been； but she's just had a very bad bout； and at one time we were afraid that we were going to lose her。 You can imagine how anxious we all were。 But she is better again now； although very much shattered。 The Chapel is closed。 There's a piece of news for you！ It never recovered from poor Warlock's death； he was the spirit that gave it life； and although he may have had his dreams and imaginations that deceived him； there was some life in that building that I have never found anywhere else and shall never find again。 You remember that Amy Warlock married that scamp Thurston。 Well； she has left him and has come back to live with her mother。 She had a rather bad experience； I'm afraid； poor woman； but she says nothing to any one about it。 She and the old lady have moved from this part of London and have gone to live somewhere in Kensington。 Some one saw Martin Warlock in Paris the other day。 I hear that he has been very seriously ill and is greatly changed； looking years older。 I can say； now that you are happily married； that I am greatly relieved that you were not engaged to him。 You won't think this presumptuous of a man old enough to be your father； will you？ I am sure he had many good things in him； but he was very weak and not fitted to look after you。 But he had a good heart； I'm sure； and his father's death was a great shock to him。 Thurston； I hear； is having revival meetings up and down the country。 Miss Avies； I believe； is with him。 You remember Miss Pyncheon？ She and many other regular attendants at the Chapel have left this neighbourhood。 The Chapel is to be a cinematograph theatre； I believe。 There！ I have given you all the gossip。 I have not said more about your aunts because I want you to come up one day to London； when you have time； and see them。 You will do that； won't you？ I expect you are very busyI hope you are。 I would like to have a line from you； but please don't bother if you have too much to do。
Always your friend；
WILLIAM MAGNUS。
When Maggie saw Martin's name the other writing on the page transformed itself suddenly into a strange pattern of webs and squares。 Nevertheless she pursued her way through this； but without her own agency； as though some outside person were reading to her and she was not listening。
She repeated the last words 〃Always your friend； William Magnus〃 aloud solemnly twice。 Her thoughts ran in leaps and runs； hurdle… race…wise across the flat level of her brain。 Martin。 Old。 Ill。 Paris。 Those walls out there and the road…man with a spadelittle boy walking with himchatteringit's going to be hot。 The light across the lawn is almost blue and the beds are dry。 His room。 The looking…glass。 Always tilts back when one tries to see one's hair。 Meant to speak about it。 Martin。 Ill。 Paris。 Paris。 Trains。 Boats。 How quickly could one be there？ No time at all。 Paris。 Never been to Paris。 Perhaps he isn't there now 。 。 。
At that definite picture she controlled her mind again。 She pulled it up as a driver drags back a restive horse。 Her first real thought was： 〃How hard that this letter should have come now when I was just going to put everything right with Paul。〃 Her next： 〃Poor Paul！ But I don't care for him a bit 。 。 。 I don't care for any one but Martin。 I never did。〃 Her next： 〃Why did I ever think I did？〃 And her next： 〃Why did I ever do this？〃 She knew with a strange calm certainty that from this moment she would never be rid of Martin's presence again。 She had maintained for more than a year a wonderful make…believe of indifference。 She had fancied that by； pushing furiously with both hands one could drive things into the past。 But Fate was cleverer than that。 What he wanted to keep he kept for you… …the weaving of the pattern in the carpet might be your handiwork； but the final design was settled before ever the carpet was begun。 Not that any of these fine thoughts ever entered Maggie's head。 All that she thought was 〃I love Martin。 I want to go to him。 He's ill。 I've got to do my duty about Paul。〃 She settled upon that last point。 She bound her mind around it； fast and secure like thick cord。 She put Mr。 Magnus' letter away in the shell…covered box； the wedding…present from the aunts； in this box were the programme of the play that she had been to with Martin； the ring with the three pearls； Martin's few letters； and some petals of the chrysanthemum； dry and faded； that she had worn on the great day of the matinee。 Something had warned her that it was foolish to keep Martin's letters； but why should she not？ She had never hidden her love for Martin。 Then； standing in the middle of the room； close beside the large double…bed； with a football…group and 〃The Crucifixion〃 staring down upon her； she had her worst hour。 Nothing in all life could have moved her as did that picture of Martin's loneliness and sickness。 Wave after wave of persuasion swept over her： 〃Go！ Go now！ Take the train to Paris。 You can find out from Mr。 Magnus where he was living。 He is sick。 He needs you。 You swore to him that you would never desert him； and you have deserted him。 They don't want you here。 Grace hates you； and Paul is too lazy to care！〃
At the thought of Paul resolution came to her。 She looked up at the rather fat； amiable youth with the stout legs and the bare knees in the football photograph； and prayed to it： 〃Paul； I'm very lonely and tempted。 Care for me even though I can't love you as you want。 Don't give me up because I can't let you have what some one else has got。 Let's be happy； Paulplease。〃
She was shivering。 She looked back with a terrified； reluctant glance to the drawer where Mr。 Magnus' letter was； then she went downstairs。
Soon after they started for Little Harben。 The last days in Skeaton had scarcely been happy ones。 Grace had erected an elaborate scaffolding of offended dignity and bitter misery。 She was not bitterly miserable； indeed she enjoyed her game； but it was depressing to watch Paul give way to her。 He was determined to leave her in a happy mind。 Any one could have told him that the way to do that was to leave her alone altogether。 Instead he petted her； persuading her to eat her favourite pudding； buying her a new work… box that she needed； dismissing a boy from the choir （the only treble who was a treble） because he was supposed to have made a long…nose at Grace during choir…practice。
Ht adopted also a pleading line with her。 〃Now； Grace dear； don't you think you could manage a little bit more？〃
〃Do you think you ought to go out in all this rain； Grace dear？〃
〃Grace； you look tired to death。 Shall I read