her the most genuine fondness of which he
was capable, besides trust and a certain admiration. A sort of respect
underlay all his patronising good-nature or caprices with her. But
still he had got into the habit of some feeble flirtation, a little
affair, and at first he missed it very much. He didn't care a straw for
Miss Townsend; he never had. He thought her plain and tedious; she
bored him more than any woman he had ever met, and yet he had slipped
into a silly sort of intrigue, beginning by a few words of pity or
sympathy to her, and by the idea that she looked up to him in
admiration. He was very much ashamed of it and of the circumstances; he
was not proud of his conquest with her, as he generally was. He felt
that on account of the children, and altogether, he had been playing it
a bit low down.

He was not incapable, either, of appreciating Edith's attitude. She had
never cross-questioned him, never asked him for a single detail, never
laboured the subject, nor driven the point home, nor condescended even
to try to find out how far things had really gone. She hadn't even told
him how she knew; he was ashamed to ask.

And, after that promise of forgiveness, she never referred to it; there
was never the slightest innuendo, teasing, reproach. Yes, by Jove!
Edith was wonderful! And so Bruce meant to play the game too.

For several days he asked the porter at the club if there were any
letters, receiving the usual reply, 'None, sir.'

The third day he received the following note, and took it to read with
enjoyment of the secrecy combined with a sort of self-important shame.
Until now he hadn't communicated with her:--

'Dear Mr Ottley,

Of course you know I'm not returning to the children after the
holidays, nor am I going with you to Westgate. I'm very unhappy, for I
fear I have offended Mrs Ottley. She has always been very kind to me
till now; but I shall let the matter rest. Under the circumstances I
suppose I shall not see you any more. May I ask that you should not
call or write. I and mother are going to spend the summer at Bexhill
with some friends. Our address will be Sandringham, Seaview Road,
Bexhill, if you like to write just one line to say good-bye. I fear I
have been rather to blame in seeing you without Mrs Ottley's knowledge,
but you know how one's feelings sometimes lead one to do what one knows
one ought not to ...'

'Sandringham, indeed! Some boarding house, I suppose,' said Bruce to
him