the architecture and thought of the hopes and
imaginations she had allowed to centre upon this place. It was to have
been a glowing home of happy people, and over it all brooded the chill
stillness of rules and regulations and methodical suppressions and
tactful discouragement. It was an Institution, it had the empty
orderliness of an Institution, Mrs. Pembrose had just called it an
Institution, and so Susan Burnet had prophesied it would become five
years or more ago. It was a dream subjugated to reality.

So it seemed to Lady Harman must all dreams be subjugated to reality,
and the tossing spring greenery of the square, the sunshine, the tumult
of sparrows and the confused sound of distant traffic, framed as it was
in the hard dark outline of the entrance door, was as near as the
promise of joy could ever come to her. "Caught and spoilt," that seemed
to be the very essential of her life; just as it was of these Hostels,
all the hopes, the imaginings, the sweet large anticipations, the
generosities, and stirring warm desires....

Perhaps Lady Harman had been a little overworking with her preparations
for exile. Because as these unhappy thoughts passed through her mind she
realized that she was likely to weep. It was extremely undesirable that
Mrs. Pembrose should see her weeping.

But Mrs. Pembrose did see her weeping, saw her dark eyes swimming with
uncontrollable tears, watched her walk past her and out, without a word
or a gesture of farewell.

A kind of perplexity came upon the soul of Mrs. Pembrose. She watched
the tall figure descend to her car and enter it and dispose itself
gracefully and depart....

"Hysterical," whispered Mrs. Pembrose at last and was greatly comforted.

"Childish," said Mrs. Pembrose sipping further consolation for an
unwonted spiritual discomfort.

"Besides," said Mrs. Pembrose, "what else can one do?"

Sec.8

Sir Isaac was greatly fatigued by his long journey to Santa Margherita
in spite of every expensive precaution to relieve him; but as soon as
the effect of that wore off, his recovery under the system Bergener had
prescribed was for a time remarkable. In a little while he was out of
bed again and in an armchair. Then the young doctor began to talk of
drives. They had no car with them, so he went into Genoa and spent an
energetic day securing the sweetest-running automobile he could find and
having it refitted for Sir Isaac's peculiar needs. In this they made a
number of ex