I've told you I think you get no good there. But go if
you like.'

She said after a silence:

'I have no other friend in London; and if it were only on account of her
kindness to me, I owe her a visit.'

'All right, don't talk about it any more; I'm thinking of something.'

The evening wore on. At ten o'clock the servant brought up a jug of
beer, which she fetched for Mutimer every night; he said he could not
sleep without this sedative. It was always the sign for Adela to go to
bed.

She visited Stella in the morning, and found her still suffering. They
talked for an hour, then it was time for Adela to hasten homewards,
in order to have dinner ready by half-past one. From Stella she had no
secret, save the one which she did her best to make a secret even to
herself; she spoke freely of her mode of life, though without comment.
Stella made no comments in her replies.

'And you cannot have lunch with me?' she asked when her friend rose.

'I cannot; dear.'

'May I write to you?' Stella said with a meaning look.

'Yes, to tell me how you are.'

Adela had not got far from the house when she saw her husband walking
towards her. She looked at him steadily.

'I happened to be near,' he explained, 'and thought I might as well go
home with you.'

'I might have been gone.'

'Oh, I shouldn't have waited long.'

The form of his reply discovered that he had no intention of calling
at the house; Adela understood that he had been in Avenue Road for some
time, probably had reached it very soon after her.

The next morning there arrived for Mutimer a letter from Alice. She
desired to see him; her husband would be from home all day, and she
would be found at any hour; her business was of importance--underlined.

Mutimer went shortly after breakfast, and Alice received him very much
as she would have done in the days before the catastrophe. She had
arrayed herself with special care; he found her leaning on cushions, her
feet on a stool, the eternal novel on her lap. Her brother had to stifle
anger at seeing her thus in appearance unaffected by the storm which had
swept away his own happiness and luxuries.

'What is it you want?' he asked at once, without preliminary greeting.

'You are not very polite,' Alice returned. 'Perhaps you'll take a
chair.'

'I haven't much time, so please don't waste what I can afford.'

'Are you so busy? Have you found something to do?'

'I'm likely to have enough to do with people wh