or me."

"That's what we're panting after. But it can't be done, because
there's nothing to eat. At least, there's nothing for you. Besides,
after this afternoon we are both emotionally worn-out. And that's not
all. Albert and Hector brought us a bit of news from Gallows. Just you
take my tip and ask no questions. You take the train into Dilborough
and dine at the 'Crown.' You might--I don't say you will, but you
might--get a bit of a surprise. If you hurry you'll catch the 7.5."

Luke thrust his wife's letter into his pocket, and hurried.

5

"No," said the sad-eyed waiter, in reply to Luke's enquiry. "No, we do
not serve the dinner on Sunday night. In Dilborough Sunday night,
there is what you call, nothing doing. You can have a nice chop."

"I hate chops," said Luke moodily. "All right, get me a chop."

"The lady who stay here, she have a chop too. She also say she hate
chops. You have to wait a little time perhaps, because the chef is out
Sunday evening. You wait in the drawing-room. It is very nice. Very
comfortable. There is a newspaper of last Friday evening."

Luke submitted and entered the fly-haunted drawing-room. He sat down
with his head in his hands. Mabel's letter had been characteristically
unlike her. Her letters were never in the least bit like herself. That
was perhaps their only attraction. It was only in the postscript that
he seemed actually to hear her speak.

"Poor Nathan Samuel!" he said to himself. "Poor Moses Nathan Modecai
Samuel!"

The door opened and Jona came in, clad in a betrayed-heroine tea-gown.
She looked beautiful but tragic.

"Jona," he cried, springing to his feet.

She shrank back, covering her face with her hands.

"Don't speak to me," she said. "Don't come near me. I'm a leper, a
pariah, and an outcast."

"Oh, look here, hang it all, you can't, you know. That's mine. If
there's any lepering to be done, I do that. Outcast? How do you mean
outcast?"

"Haven't you heard?" she said.

"No," said Luke. "Come and sit on my knee, and tell me all your
troubles."

"I oughtn't," she said, but she did.

"You didn't turn up at Victoria yesterday. Couldn't you leave your
husband?"

"I couldn't," she said. "I couldn't, because I've not got a husband.
And have never had a husband. One of Bill's previous wives started to
make a fuss, and he made a clean breast of it to me. He'd married in
two different names before he married me, and both wives are still
living. He went