her hair
was arranged as she always prepared it for the pillow. He watched her
for full five minutes, and detected not the slightest movement, so
profound was her sleep. Then he turned away, muttering savagely under
his breath, 'Hypocrite! Liar!'

But for a purpose in his thoughts he would not have lain down beside
her. On getting into bed he kept as far away as possible, and all
through the wakeful night his limbs shrank from the touch of hers.

He rose an hour earlier than usual. Monica had long been awake, but she
moved so seldom that he could not be sure of this; her face was turned
from him. When he came back to the room after his bath. Monica propped
herself on her elbow and asked why he was moving so early.

'I want to be in the City at nine,' he replied, with a show of
cheerfulness. 'There's a money affair I must see after.'

'Something that's going wrong?'

'I'm afraid so. I must lose no time in looking to it. What plans have
you for to-day?'

'None whatever.'

'It's Saturday, you know. I promised to see Newdick this afternoon.
Perhaps I may bring him to dinner.'

About twelve o'clock he returned from his business. At two he went away
again, saying that he should not be back before seven, it might be a
little later. In Monica these movements excited no special remark; they
were merely a continuance of his restlessness. But no sooner had he
departed, after luncheon, than she went to her dressing-room, and began
to make slow, uncertain preparations for leaving home herself.

This morning she had tried to write a letter for Bevis, but vainly. She
knew not what to say to him, uncertain of her own desires and of what
lay before her. Yet, if she were to communicate with him henceforth at
all, it was necessary, this very afternoon, to find an address where
letters could be received for her, and to let him know of it.
To-morrow, Sunday, was useless for the purpose, and on Monday it might
be impossible for her to go out alone. Besides that, she could not be
sure of the safety of a letter delivered at the flat on Monday night or
Tuesday morning.

She dressed at length and went out. Her wisest course, probably, was to
seek for some obliging shopkeeper near Lavender Hill. Then she could
call on Virginia, transact the business she had pretended to discharge
yesterday, and there pen a note to Bevis.

Her moods alternated with distracting rapidity. A hundred times she had
resolved that Bevis could be nothing mor