omitted to
consider the difficulties that might arise as regards Cleo. He saw now
that by becoming their guest under circumstances such as his he had
exposed himself to the possibility of insult from the first. But he
did not condemn them; he simply felt he could not live in contact with
them.

He was too unstrung to read his father's letter yet, though, as he
thought of it again, the reflection occurred to him that old relations
were intruding into the new life that had begun with Cleo. First Helen
and then his father had overtaken him!

He started to walk briskly through the town, which he soon cleared.
The movement helped to calm his excitement, though it did not diminish
his bitterness. All the morning he tramped through the country,
deriving some little comfort from the feeling that he was all alone.
He lunched on bread and cheese at a wayside inn, partaking of the
meal in an old room with rough tables and benches. Near him lay four
huge potatoes, newly broiled in their skins. Through the window he
looked out on to a yard where poultry strutted about amid straw, dung,
and rubbish, in the shadow of a hay-rick. Not till then had he the
heart to take the letter from his pocket. An examination of the
redirections proved interesting. It had been first sent to the address
where he had lived with Cleo, whence it had been redirected care of
Cleo's maid, who, in turn, had forwarded it to Dover. He understood
now how those first mysterious letters had come for Cleo so quickly,
though he did not quite see why she should have concealed from him
this arrangement with the maid.

As he broke the envelope a labourer in corduroys came into the room,
and seemed taken aback at finding a gentleman there. He was the owner
of the broiled potatoes, but apologised for taking possession of them.
Morgan bade him sit down and have his meal, but the man, his face
shining with good-humour, insisted he must not disturb him, but would
go and stand at the bar. He took only two of the potatoes, his
good-nature impelling him to leave the other two for Morgan, with the
hearty, encouraging remark: "Pull into them, sir!"

"My Dear Son:

"I am writing this only with the faintest hope of its ever
reaching you. If by any chance it does, I beg of you to inform me
of your whereabouts at once. Your letter came upon us like a
bombshell. I do not wish to reproach you for the hurt we have
suffered. I only want you to bel