-street, Rosamund turned into Fulham Road, and there found
a cab to convey her home. On entering the house, she gave instructions
that she was at home to nobody this afternoon; then she sat down at the
table, as though to work on a drawing, but at the end of an hour her
brush had not yet been dipped in colour. She rose, stood in the
attitude of one who knows not what to do, and at length moved to the
window. Instantly she drew back. On the opposite side of the little
square stood a man, looking toward her house; and that man was
Warburton.

From safe retirement, she watched him. He walked this way; he walked
that; again he stood still, his eyes upon the house. Would he cross
over? Would he venture to knock at the door? No, he withdrew; he
disappeared.

Presently it was the hour of dusk. Every few minutes Rosamund
reconnoitred at the window, and at length, just perceptible to her
straining eyes, there again stood Warburton. He came forward. Standing
with hand pressed against her side, she waited in nervous anguish for a
knock at the front door; but it did not sound. She stood motionless for
a long, long time, then drew a deep, deep breath, and trembled as she
let herself sink into a chair.

Earlier than usual, she went up to her bedroom. In a corner of the room
stood her trunk; this she opened, and from the chest of drawers she
took forth articles of apparel, which she began to pack, as though for
a journey. When the trunk was half full, she ceased in weariness,
rested for a little, and then went to bed.

And in the darkness there came a sound of subdued sobbing. It lasted
for some minutes--ceased--for some minutes was again audible. Then
silence fell upon the chamber.

Lying awake between seven and eight next morning, Rosamund heard the
postman's knock. At once she sprang out of bed, slipped on her
dressing-gown, and rang the bell. Two letters were brought up to her;
she received them with tremulous hand. Both were addressed in writing,
unmistakably masculine; the one was thick, the other was thin and this
she opened first.

"Dear Miss Elvan"--it was Warburton who wrote--"I hoped to see you this
evening, as we had appointed. Indeed, I _must_ see you, for, as you may
imagine, I have much to say. May I come to your house? In any case, let
me know place and hour, and let it be as soon as possible. Reply at
once, I entreat you. Ever sincerely yours--"

She laid it aside, and broke the other envelope.

"Dear, dear