lf against him. To her surprise he did not discover her
retreat; she heard him moving about the passages, stumbling here and
there, then he seemed to return to his bedroom. She wrapped herself in a
counterpane, and sat in a chair till it was full morning.

He was absent for a week after that. Of course his polling at the
election had been ridiculously small compared with that of the other
candidates. When he returned he went about his ordinary occupations; he
was seemingly not in his usual health, but the constant irritableness
had left him. Adela tried to bear herself as though nothing unwonted had
come to pass, but Mutimer scarcely spoke when at home; if he addressed
her it was in a quick, off-hand way, and without looking at her. Adela
again lived almost alone. Her mother and Letty understood that she
preferred this. Letty had many occupations; before long she hoped to
welcome her first child. The children of New Wanley still came once
a week to the Manor; Adela endeavoured to amuse them, to make them
thoughtful, but it had become a hard, hard task. Only with Mr. Wyvern
did she occasionally speak without constraint, though not of course
without reserve; speech of _that_ kind she feared would never again be
possible to her. Still she felt that the vicar saw far into her life.
On some topics she was more open than she had hitherto ventured to be;
a boldness, almost a carelessness, for which she herself could not
account, possessed her at such times.

Late in June she received from Stella Westlake a pressing invitation to
come and spend a fortnight in London. It was like sunshine to her
heart; almost without hesitation she re solved to accept it. Her husband
offered no objection, seemed to treat the proposal with indifference.
Later in the day he said:

'If you have time, you might perhaps give Alice a call.'

'I shall do that as soon as ever I can.'

He had something else to say.

'Perhaps Mrs. Westlake might ask her to come, whilst you are there.'

'Very likely, I think,' Adela replied, with an attempt at confidence.

It was only her second visit to London: the first had been in winter
time, and under conditions which had not allowed her to attend to
anything she saw. But for Stella's presence there she would have feared
London; her memory of it was like that of an ill dream long past; her
mind only reverted to it in darkest hours, and then she shuddered. But
now she thought only of Stella; Stella was light an