one thing I would like
you to know. _You_ have helped me more than anything else. You
attracted me because you possess to excess the very qualities which I
have lost--trust, faith, overflowing kindliness and love. It has been a
tonic to be with you. There have been times--working in the garden by
your side, seeing all the live green things springing out of darkness--
when I've been happy again, better than happy--_at peace_! But now--
this upheaval--it has renewed it all. Evelyn, do you think she
suspected? Do you think she will talk?"

"I am sure she won't. Absolutely sure. She had not a flickering doubt.
The name is different, you see, and she is too much absorbed in herself
and her own affairs to waste any thought upon us. In a few days they
sail for India."

"Yes." She drew a sigh of relief. "That's good. I'm thankful. It
would have been so hard to be uprooted again. But you can understand,
Evelyn, that for a time--" She rose, stretched herself to her full
height, and threw out her arms restlessly. "The roving fit is on me. I
must be off into the wilds and fight it out by myself."

I had known it was coming--subconsciously had known it for weeks, but it
was hard all the same. We had been so happy, and in six short months my
roots seemed to have gone down surprisingly deep. I hated the idea of
leaving "Pastimes," but I reminded myself that it was only for a time--
only for a time.

"_Of course_" Charmion assured me heartily. "It is August now. We will
make a rendezvous for Christmas. Perhaps I may turn up before that,
like a bad penny, but you may depend on me for Christmas. You--you will
go to your flat, Evelyn?"

I nodded silently. The Pixie scheme had for the moment lost its charm,
but I would not give in.

"Silly one!" murmured Charmion fondly. "You dear goose! Well, good
luck to you. May you make other people as happy as you have made me."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

A YOUNG WIFE'S DILEMMA.

Not another word about herself did Charmion say, but she began at once
to make preparations for going abroad, and before a week is over she
will be off. She has friends in Italy, it appears, and will probably
spend some time near them, but even I am only to have an official
address, from which letters are to be forwarded. She warns me that I
may hear very seldom, since when a "dark mood" is on, the very essence
of a cure seems to be to hide herself in utter solitude.

Well, I also am goi