J. SCHLEGEL."

Margaret sent this letter round by the post. Next morning she received
the following reply by hand:

"DEAR MISS SCHLEGEL,

"You should not have written me such a letter. I called to tell you that
Paul has gone abroad.

"RUTH WILCOX."

Margaret's cheeks burnt. She could not finish her breakfast. She was on
fire with shame. Helen had told her that the youth was leaving England,
but other things had seemed more important, and she had forgotten. All
her absurd anxieties fell to the ground, and in their place arose the
certainty that she had been rude to Mrs. Wilcox. Rudeness affected
Margaret like a bitter taste in the mouth. It poisoned life. At times it
is necessary, but woe to those who employ it without due need. She flung
on a hat and shawl, just like a poor woman, and plunged into the fog,
which still continued. Her lips were compressed, the letter remained in
her hand, and in this state she crossed the street, entered the marble
vestibule of the flats, eluded the concierges, and ran up the stairs
till she reached the second floor. She sent in her name, and to her
surprise was shown straight into Mrs. Wilcox's bedroom.

"Oh, Mrs. Wilcox, I have made the baddest blunder. I am more, more
ashamed and sorry than I can say."

Mrs. Wilcox bowed gravely. She was offended, and did not pretend to the
contrary. She was sitting up in bed, writing letters on an invalid table
that spanned her knees. A breakfast tray was on another table beside
her. The light of the fire, the light from the window, and the light of
a candle-lamp, which threw a quivering halo round her hands combined to
create a strange atmosphere of dissolution.

"I knew he was going to India in November, but I forgot."

"He sailed on the 17th for Nigeria, in Africa."

"I knew--I know. I have been too absurd all through. I am very much
ashamed."

Mrs. Wilcox did not answer.

"I am more sorry than I can say, and I hope that you will forgive me."

"It doesn't matter, Miss Schlegel. It is good of you to have come round
so promptly."

"It does matter," cried Margaret. "I have been rude to you; and my
sister is not even at home, so there was not even that excuse."

"Indeed?"

"She has just gone to Germany."

"She gone as well," murmured the other. "Yes, certainly, it is quite
safe--safe, absolutely, now."

"You've been worrying too!" exclaimed Margaret, getting more and
more excited, and taking a chair without invitation. "Ho