e to her, and again had thought
of him with impulses of yearning, trying to persuade herself that he
had acted well and wisely. A hundred times she determined to carry out
her idea of yesterday--to quit her husband and resist all his efforts
to recall her--and again had all but resigned herself to live with him,
accepting degradation as so many wives perforce did. Her mind was in
confusion, and physically she felt far from well. A heaviness weighed
upon her limbs, making it hardship to walk however short a distance.

Arrived at Clapham Junction, she began to search wearily,
indifferently, for the kind of shop that might answer her purpose. The
receiving of letters which, for one reason or another, must be
dispatched to a secret address, is a very ordinary complaisance on the
part of small London stationers; hundreds of such letters are sent and
called for every week within the metropolitan postal area. It did not
take Monica long to find an obliging shopkeeper; the first to whom she
applied--a decent woman behind a counter which displayed newspapers,
tobacco, and fancy articles--willingly accepted the commission.

She came out of the shop with flushed cheeks. Another step in shameful
descent--yet it had the result of strengthening once more her emotions
favourable to Bevis. On his account she had braved this ignominy, and
it drew her towards him, instead of producing the effect which would
have seemed more natural. Perhaps the reason was that she felt herself
more hopelessly an outcast from the world of honourable women, and
therefore longed in her desolation for the support of a man's love. Did
he not love her? It was _her_ fault if she expected him to act with a
boldness that did not lie in his nature. Perhaps his discretion, which
she had so bitterly condemned as weakness, meant a wise regard for her
interests as well as his own. The public scandal of divorce was a
hideous thing. If it damaged his prospects and sundered him from his
relatives, how could she hope that his love of her, the cause of it
all, would long endure?

The need of love overcame her. She would submit to any conditions
rather than lose this lover whose kisses were upon her lips, and whose
arms had held her so passionately. She was too young to accept a life
of resignation, too ardent. Why had she left him in despondency, in
doubt whether he would ever again see her?

* * * * * * * * * *

She turned back on her way to Virginia's lodgings, re-e