his holiday. He had encountered
many old friends, supposedly all of the male sex: among them--most
welcome of surprises to him!--Mr. George Pembroke, a boon companion at
Harvard. And this mention of boon companionship brought up to Honora a
sufficiently vivid idea of Mr. Pembroke's characteristics. The extent
of her knowledge of this gentleman consisted in the facts that he was
a bachelor, a member of a prominent Philadelphia family, and that time
hung heavy on his hands.

One morning she received a telegram to the effect that her husband would
be home that night, bringing three people with him. He sent his love,
but neglected to state the names and sexes of the prospective guests.
And she was still in a quandary as to what arrangements to make when
Starling appeared in answer to her ring.

"You will send the omnibus to the five o'clock train," she said.
"There will be three extra places at dinner, and tea when Mr. Chiltern
arrives."

Although she strove to speak indifferently, she was sure from the way
the old man looked at her that her voice had not been quite steady. Of
late her curious feeling about him had increased in intensity; and many
times, during this week she had spent alone, she had thought that his
eyes had followed her with sympathy. She did not resent this. Her world
having now contracted to that wide house, there was a comfort in knowing
that there was one in it to whom she could turn in need. For she felt
that she could turn to Starling; he alone, apparently, had measured
the full depth of her trouble; nay, had silently predicted it from
the beginning. And to-day, as he stood before her, she had an almost
irresistible impulse to speak. Just a word-a human word would have been
such a help to her! And how ridiculous the social law that kept the old
man standing there, impassive, respectful, when this existed between
them! Her tragedy was his tragedy; not in the same proportion, perhaps;
nevertheless, he had the air of one who would die of it.

And she? Would she die? What would become of her? When she thought of
the long days and months and years that stretched ahead of her, she
felt that her soul would not be able to survive the process of steady
degradation to which it was sure to be subjected. For she was a
prisoner: the uttermost parts of the earth offered no refuge. To-day,
she knew, was to see the formal inauguration of that process. She had
known torture, but it had been swift, obliterating, e