whiteness of Gwenda's face. It arrested
Mary.

It was not excitement nor dismay nor eagerness, nor even interest.
It was a sort of illumination, the movement of some inner light, the
shining passage of some idea. And in Gwenda's attitude, as it now
presented itself to Mary, there was a curious still withdrawal and
detachment. She seemed hardly to listen but to be preoccupied with her
idea.

"He thought it would be a good thing," she said.

"I think I've convinced him," said Mary, "that it wouldn't."

Gwenda was stiller and more withdrawn than ever, guarding her idea.

"Can I see Steven before I go?" she said presently.

"Of course. He'll be up in a second----"

"I can't--here."

Mary stared. She understood.

"You're ill. Poor dear, you shall see him this minute."

She rang the bell.

LXV

Five minutes passed before Rowcliffe came to Gwenda in the study.

"Forgive me," he said. "I had a troublesome patient."

"Don't be afraid. You're not going to have another."

"Come, _you_ haven't troubled me much, anyhow. This is the first time,
isn't it?"

Yes, she thought, it was the first time. And it would be the last.
There had not been many ways of seeing Steven, but this way had always
been open to her if she had cared to take it. But it had been of all
ways the most repugnant to her, and she had never taken it till now
when she was driven to it.

"Mary tells me you're not feeling very fit."

He was utterly gentle, as he was with all sick and suffering things.

"I'm all right. That's not why I want to see you."

He was faintly surprised. "What is it, then? Sit down and tell me."

She sat down. They had Steven's table as a barrier between them.

"You've been thinking of leaving Rathdale, haven't you?" she said.

"I've been thinking of leaving it for the last seven years. But I
haven't left it yet. I don't suppose I shall leave it now."

"Even when you've got the chance?"

"Even when I've got the chance."

"You said you wanted to go, and you do, don't you?"

"Well, yes--for some things."

"Would you think me an awful brute if I said I wanted you to go?"

He gave her a little queer, puzzled look.

"I wouldn't think you a brute whatever you wanted. Do you mind my
smoking a cigarette?"

"No."

She waited.

"Steven--

"I wish I hadn't made you stay."

"You're not making me stay."

"I mean--that time. Do you remember?"

He smiled a little smile of reminiscent tenderness.

"Ye