d a tragic fascination. She had promised
to see her aunt to-day, but it would be difficult to find time, unless
she could manage to get there between her business with Arnold and the
hour of dinner. Olga was to telegraph if anything happened. A chill
misgiving took hold upon her as often as she saw her aunt's face, so
worn and woe-stricken; and it constantly hovered before her mind's eye.

The revelation made to her yesterday had caused a mental shock greater
than she had yet realised. That Mrs. Hannaford, a woman whom she had
for many years regarded as elderly, should be possessed and overcome by
the passion of love, was a thing so strange, so at conflict with her
fixed ideas, as to be all but incredible. In her aunt's presence, she
scarcely reflected upon it; she saw only a woman bound to her by
natural affection, who had fallen into dire misfortune and
wretchedness. Little by little the story grew upon her understanding;
the words in which it had been disclosed came back to her, and with a
new significance, a pathos hitherto unfelt. She remembered that Olga's
mother was not much more than forty years old; that this experience
began more than five years ago; that her life had been loveless; that
she was imaginative and of emotional temper. To dwell upon these facts
was not only to see one person in a new light, but to gain a wider
perception of life at large. Irene had a sense of enfranchisement from
the immature, the conventional.

She would have liked to be alone, to sit quietly and think. She wanted
to review once more, and with fuller self-consciousness, the
circumstances which were shaping her future. But there was no leisure
for such meditation; the details of life pressed upon her, urged her
onward, as with an impatient hand. This sense of constraint became an
irritation--due in part to the slight headache, coming and going, which
reminded her of her bad night. Among the things she meant to do this
morning was the writing of several letters to so-called friends, who
had addressed her in the wonted verbiage on the subject of her
engagement. Five minutes proved the task impossible. She tore up a
futile attempt at civility, and rose from the desk with all her nerves
quivering.

"How well I understand," she said to herself, "why men swear!"

At eleven o'clock, unable to endure the house, she dressed for going
out, and drove to Mrs. Hannaford's.

Olga was not at home. Before going into her aunt's room, Irene sp