u perfectly. I wondered whether you would write
to me one day. I am married now and live most of the year in London.
Would you come and see me at Bryanston Square? I am nearly always at
home at tea-time. If you are free would you perhaps come next Friday?

It will be so nice to see you again.

Yours sincerely,

KATHERINE MARK. "You've got a letter, dear. Your aunt isn't quite so
well this morning, I'm afraid. Scrambled eggs."

"Yes," she looked her aunt in the face without any confusion. How
strangely her decision about Martin had altered her relationship now to
every one! What did it matter whether any one were angry? "I ought to
have told you, Aunt Elizabeth. I wrote about a fortnight ago to a lady
who came once to see us at home. She was a Miss Trenchard then. She
said that if ever I wanted any help I was to write to her. So I have
written--to ask her whether she can find me any work to do, and she has
asked me to go and see her."

"Work," said Aunt Elizabeth. "But you won't go away while your aunt's
so ill."

Wouldn't she? Maggie didn't know so much about that.

"I want to be independent," said Maggie, trying to fix Aunt Elizabeth's
eyes. "It isn't fair that I should be a burden to you."

"You're no burden, dear." Aunt Elizabeth looked uneasily round the
room. "Your aunt depends on you."

"Depends on me for what?"

"For everything."

"Then she oughtn't to, Aunt Elizabeth, I've said it again and again.
I'm not fit for any one to depend on. I'm forgetful and careless and
untidy. You know I am. And I'm different from every one here. I'm very
grateful to Aunt Anne, but I'm not good enough for her to depend on."

Aunt Elizabeth blinked nervously.

"She's got very little. You mustn't take away all she has."

"I'm not all she has," answered Maggie, knowing that she was becoming
excited and cross. "I don't belong to any one except myself." "And
Martin" her soul whispered. Then she added, suddenly moved by remorse
as she looked at Aunt Elizabeth's meek and trembling face, "You're so
good to me, both of you, and I'm so bad. I'll give you anything but my
freedom."

"You talk so strangely, dear," said Aunt Elizabeth. "But there are so
many things I don't understand."

Maggie took the letter up to her bedroom and there read it a number of
times. It all seemed wonderful to her, the stamped blue address, the
rich white square notepaper, and above all the beautiful handwriting.
She thought of her own childish s