receive instead that letter of
farewell which, the instant she had read it, she knew to be final and
irrevocable.

In such a nature as hers the tenderest spot was her pride. She had been
his sweetheart since they were boy and girl together, and when the time
came they had become formally engaged. For nearly four years now she had
considered herself as half married to him. Other men attracted by her
physical beauty and her mental charm had approached her, as they had a
perfect right to do, in open and honest rivalry of Vane, but she had
given them one and all very clearly to understand that she had
definitely plighted her troth, and had no intention of breaking it. In
other words she had been absolutely faithful even in thought.

She had never considered his feelings as to what he called his inherited
alcoholism as anything else than the somewhat fine-drawn scruples of a
highly-strung, and rather romantic nature. She had not troubled herself
about the deadly scientific aspect of the matter. She knew perfectly
well that men got drunk sometimes and still made excellent husbands,
and, more than all, she firmly believed that, once Vane's wife, she
would speedily acquire sufficient influence over him to make anything
like a recurrence of what had happened quite impossible.

Even after his second and worst breakdown on the morning of
Commemoration Day she would still have received him as her lover and,
after a little friendly lecture which would, of course, have ended in
the usual way, she would have been perfect friends with him again on the
old footing.

But that letter had ended everything between them. Moreover, it had been
followed by one from Sir Arthur to her father expressing great regret at
the turn which matters had taken, but saying that, after repeated
conversations with Vane, he had been forced to the conclusion that his
resolve to enter the Church and devote himself to a life of celibacy and
mission work at home was really fixed and unalterable.

After that there was, of course, nothing more to be said or done. Enid,
being a natural, simple-hearted, healthy English girl, who enjoyed life
a great deal too well to worry about looking under the surface of
things, therefore came to the conclusion that she had been jilted for
the sake of a fine-drawn Quixotic idea. If she had been jilted for the
sake of another woman it would have been quite a different matter. Then
there would have been something tangible to ha