from some mysterious
labour in the lower part of the house.

"What is't?" he said, startled by her white face and troubled eyes.

"The two of them," she said, "have gone out on to the moor in this
mist. It isn't safe."

"Whatever for?" he asked.

"How should I know? She went out first and now he's after her. 'Tisn't
safe, Jim. You'd best follow them."

He didn't argue with her, being an obedient husband disciplined by many
years of matrimony.

"Well, I'll go," he said slowly. "Best take William, though."

He went off in search of his man.

But Bolitho need not trouble. Half an hour later Maggie returned, stood
in the sitting-room looking about her, took off her jacket and hat,
then, pursuing her own thoughts, slowly put them on. She was then about
to leave the room when the door burst open and Martin tumbled in. He
stood at the doorway staring at her, his mouth open. "Why!" he
stammered. "I thought ... I thought ... you were out--" She looked at
him crossly.

"You shouldn't have gone out--an afternoon like this. If I'd been
here--"

"Well, you weren't. You shouldn't have gone out either for the matter
of that. And I was at the circus--a damned poor one too. Your things
are soaking," he added, suddenly looking up at her. "You talk about me.
You'd better go and change."

"I'm going out again," she said.

"Out again?"

"Yes ... There's a train at Clinton at seven. I'm catching that."

"A train?" He stared at her, completely bewildered.

"Yes. That's what I went out to get my head clear about. Martin, you've
beaten me. After all these years you have. After all my fine speeches,
too."

He began to drum on the window. He tried to speak casually.

"I haven't beaten you, Maggie."

"Yes, you have. I said you wouldn't be able to send me away. Well,
you've managed to and in the only way you could--by your silence. You
haven't opened your mouth for a fortnight. You're better now, too, and
Mrs. Bolitho will look after you. I was determined to hang on to you,
but I find I can't. I'm going back to London to get some work."

His hand dropped from the window. Then, with his head turned from her
and his voice so low that she could scarcely hear the--

"No, Maggie, don't go."

She smiled across at him. "There's no need to be polite, Martin. We're
both of us beyond that by this time. I'll come back if you really want
me. You know that I always will, but at last, after all these years,
I've found a scrap of self