oom.

"Please, sir, it's a Mrs Cannon, and it's you she wants."

"Show her in," he said, and to himself: "My God!"

In the ten seconds that elapsed before Hilda appeared he glanced at
himself in the mantel mirror, fidgeted with his necktie, and walked to
the window and back again to his chair. She had actually called to see
him! ... His agitation was extreme... But how like her it was to call
thus boldly! ... Maggie's absence was providential.

Hilda entered, to give him a lesson in blandness. She wore a veil, and
carried a muff--outworks of her self-protective, impassive demeanour.
She was pale, and as calm as pale. She would not take the easy chair
which he offered her. Useless to insist--she would not take it. He
brushed away letters and documents from the small chair to his right,
and she took that chair... Having taken it, she insisted that he should
resume the easy chair.

"I called just to say good-bye," she said. "I knew you couldn't come
out, and I'm going to-night."

"But surely he isn't fit to travel?" Edwin exclaimed.

"George? Not yet. I'm leaving him behind. You see I mustn't stay away
longer than's necessary."

She smiled, and lifted her veil as far as her nose. She had not smiled
before.

"Charlie's gone back?"

"Oh yes. Two days ago. He left a message for you."

"Yes. Maggie gave it me. By the way, I'm sorry she's not in."

"I've just seen her," said Hilda.

"Oh!"

"She came in to see Janet. They're having a cup of tea in George's
bedroom. So I put my things on and walked round here at once."

As Hilda made this surprising speech she gazed full at Edwin.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THREE.

A blush slowly covered his face. They both sat silent. Only the fire
crackled lustily. Edwin thought, as his agitation increased and
entirely confused him, "No other woman was ever like this woman!" He
wanted to rise masterfully, to accomplish some gesture splendid and
decisive, but he was held in the hollow of the easy chair as though by
paralysis. He looked at Hilda; he might have been looking at a
stranger. He tried to read her face, and he could not read it. He
could only see in it vague trouble. He was afraid of her. The idea
even occurred to him that, could he be frank with himself, he would
admit that he hated her. The moments were intensely painful; the
suspense exasperating and excruciating. Ever since their