it would be better if you
were to tell us."

Maggie's cheeks were hot. She set back her shoulders.

"How does Martha know?" she asked quickly. "I only went for a
moment--only for a little walk. But I'm grown up, Aunt Anne. Surely I
can go out by myself if ..." she stopped, looking away from them into
the fire.

"It isn't that, dear," Aunt Anne said very gently. "It's only that
you've been so little a time in London that you can't know your way
about yet. And London's a strange place. It might be unpleasant for you
alone. I'd rather that you told us first."

Then Maggie delivered her challenge.

"But, aunt, I won't be always here. I'm going off to earn my living
soon, aren't I?"

Aunt Elizabeth drew her breath in sharply. Aunt Anne said quietly:

"You are free, dear, quite free. But whilst I am not quite myself--I
don't want to be selfish, dear--but you are a great comfort to us, and
when I am stronger certainly you shall go ... even now if you wish, of
course ... but my illness."

Even as she spoke--and it was the first time that she had ever
mentioned her illness--she caught at her breast and pressed her hand
there as though she were in great pain. Maggie sprang to her side. She
caught the girl's hand with hers and held her. Maggie could feel her
swift agonized breathing. Then with a little sigh the moment had
passed. Maggie still knelt there looking up into her aunt's face.

Martha's voice was heard at the door.

"Mr. Martin Warlock, Miss. Could you see him? ..."

"Yes, Martha," said Aunt Anne, her voice calm and controlled. "Ask him
to come up."

She had abandoned so completely any idea that he might still come that
she could not now feel that it was he. She withdrew from her aunt's
side and stood in the shadow against the wall.

Although her heart beat wildly her whole mind was bent upon composure,
upon showing nothing to her aunts, and on behaving to him as though she
scarcely knew him, but so soon as he entered the room some voice cried
in her: "He is mine! He is mine!" She did not stir from her wall, but
her eyes fastened upon him and then did not move. He was wearing the
same clothes as yesterday; his tie was different, it had been black and
now it was dark blue. He looked quiet and self-possessed and at his
ease. His rough stiff hair was carelessly brushed as always;
good-humour shone from his eyes, he smiled, his walk had the sturdy
broad strength of a man who is absolutely sure of himself bu