too tired to move, and settle
down. What next? The inevitable word. The release of the soul to its
appropriate Heaven.

Would they meet in it? Margaret believed in immortality for herself. An
eternal future had always seemed natural to her. And Henry believed in
it for himself. Yet, would they meet again? Are there not rather endless
levels beyond the grave, as the theory that he had censured teaches?
And his level, whether higher or lower, could it possibly be the same as
hers?

Thus gravely meditating, she was summoned by him. He sent up Crane in
the motor. Other servants passed like water, but the chauffeur remained,
though impertinent and disloyal. Margaret disliked Crane, and he knew
it.

"Is it the keys that Mr. Wilcox wants?" she asked.

"He didn't say, madam."

"You haven't any note for me?"

"He didn't say, madam."

After a moment's thought she locked up Howards End. It was pitiable to
see in it the stirrings of warmth that would be quenched for ever. She
raked out the fire that was blazing in the kitchen, and spread the coals
in the gravelled yard. She closed the windows and drew the curtains.
Henry would probably sell the place now.

She was determined not to spare him, for nothing new had happened as far
as they were concerned. Her mood might never have altered from yesterday
evening. He was standing a little outside Charles's gate, and motioned
the car to stop. When his wife got out he said hoarsely: "I prefer to
discuss things with you outside."

"It will be more appropriate in the road, I am afraid," said Margaret.
"Did you get my message?"

"What about?"

"I am going to Germany with my sister. I must tell you now that I shall
make it my permanent home. Our talk last night was more important than
you have realised. I am unable to forgive you and am leaving you."

"I am extremely tired," said Henry, in injured tones. "I have been
walking about all the morning, and wish to sit down."

"Certainly, if you will consent to sit on the grass."

The Great North Road should have been bordered all its length with
glebe. Henry's kind had filched most of it. She moved to the scrap
opposite, wherein were the Six Hills. They sat down on the farther side,
so that they could not be seen by Charles or Dolly.

"Here are your keys," said Margaret. She tossed them towards him. They
fell on the sunlit slope of grass, and he did not pick them up.

"I have something to tell you," he said gently.

She knew