spasm in her throat as if the
idea of food sickened her.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing--nothing. I'm all right. I don't want to eat anything, that's
all. I must be going soon."

"You're tired out, Win. You've got past it. Tell you what, I'll make you
a cup of tea."

"No, Ranny, don't. I'd rather not."

She rose, and yet she did not go. He had never known Winny so undecided.

Then suddenly she stooped. On the floor of the hearth rug she had caught
sight of some bits of blue silk left from Violet's sewing. With an
almost feverish concentration of purpose she picked up each one of the
scraps and snippets; she threw them on the hearth. Slowly, deliberately,
spinning out her thread of time, she gathered what she had strewed; she
gathered into a handful the little scraps and snippets of blue silk,
powdered with the gray ashes from the hearth, and dropped them in the
fire, watching till the last shred was utterly destroyed.

There was a faint cry overhead and Ransome started up.

The cry or his movement clenched her resolution.

"_I'll_ go, Ranny," she said.

And as she went she drew a letter in a sealed envelope from the bosom of
her gown and laid it on the table.

"Vi said I was to give you that if she wasn't back by eight. It's nine
now."

He stared and let her go. He waited. He was aware of her footsteps in
the front room upstairs, of the baby crying, and of the sudden stilling
of his cry. Then he opened the letter.

He read in Violet's tottering, formless handwriting:

/#
<sc>Dear Randall,</sc>--This is to let you know I've gone and that I'm not
coming back again. I stuck to you as long as I could, but it was
misery. You and me aren't suited to live together, and it's no use
us going on any more pretending. If you'd take me back to-morrow I
wouldn't come. I can't live without Leonard Mercier, nor he without
me. I dare say you know it's him I've gone with.

We're awfully sorry for all the trouble we're bringing on you. But
we couldn't help ourselves. We were driven to it. I've been off my
head all this year thinking how I must do it, and all the time
being afraid to take the step. And ever since I made up my mind to
it I've been quiet inside and happy, which looks as if it was meant
and had got to be.

You needn't blame Leonard. He held off till he couldn't hold off
any more, because he was a friend of yours and didn't want to hurt