t's a divil!" Koenig was muttering like a servant as he went
downstairs. He went out to the telegraph office and came back, and then
Glory heard him frying his sausages on the dining-room fire.

The night was far gone when she pushed aside her untouched supper, and,
wiping her eyes, that she might see properly, sat down to write a letter.

"Dear John Storm (monk, monster, or whatever it is!): I trust it will be
counted to me for righteousness that I am doing your bidding and giving
up my profession--for the present.

"Between a woman's 'yes' and 'no'
There isn't room for a pin to go,

which is very foolish of her in this instance, considering that she is
earning various pounds a night and has nothing but Providence to fall
back upon. I have told my jailer I must have my liberty, and, being a man
of like passions with yourself, he has been busy blaspheming in the
parlour downstairs. I trust virtue will be its own reward, for I dare say
it is all I shall ever get. If I were Narcissus I should fall in love
with myself to-day, having shown an obedience to tyranny which is
beautiful and worthy of the heroic age. But to-morrow morning I go back
to the 'oilan,' and it will be so nice up there without anybody and all
alone!"

She was laughing softly to herself as she wrote, and catching her breath
with a little sob at intervals.

"A letter now and then is profitable to the soul of man--and--woman; but
you must not expect to hear from _me_, and as for you, though you _have_
resurrected yourself, I suppose a tyrant of your opinions will continue
the Benedictine rule which compels you to hold your peace--and other
things. I am engaged to breakfast with a nice girl named Glory Quayle
to-morrow morning--that is to say, _this_ morning--at Euston Station at a
quarter to seven, but happily this letter won't reach you until 7.30, so
I'll just escape interruption."

The house was still and the streets were quiet, not even a cab going
along.

"Good-bye! I've realized--a dog! It's a pug, and therefore, like somebody
else, it always looks black at me, though I suspect its father married
beneath him, for it talks a good deal, and evidently hasn't been brought
up in a Brotherhood. Therefore, being a 'female,' I intend to call it
Aunt Anna--except when the original is about. Aunt Anna has been hopping
up and down the room at my heels for the last hour, evidently thinking
that a rational woman would behave better if she went to be