ar, that made both May and
Lady Dashwood sit so silently as they went first to Wadham, and then,
round through the noble wide expanse of Market Square opposite St.
John's. Then later on out into the interminable stretch of villas
beyond. By the time they returned to the Lodgings the grey afternoon
light had faded into darkness.

"Any letters?" asked Lady Dashwood, as Robinson relieved them of their
wraps.

Yes, there were letters awaiting them, and they had been put on the
table in the middle of the hall; there was a wire also. The wire was
from the Warden, saying that he would not be back to dinner.

"He's coming later," said Lady Dashwood, aloud. "Late, May!"

"Oh!" said May Dashwood.

There was a letter for Gwen. It was lying by itself and addressed in her
mother's handwriting. She laid her hand upon it and hurried up to her
room.

Lady Dashwood went upstairs slowly to the drawing-room. "H'm, one from
Belinda," she said to herself, "asking me to keep Gwen longer, I
suppose, on some absurd excuse! Well, I won't do it; she shall go on
Monday."

She turned up the electric light and seated herself on a couch at one
side of the fire. She glanced through the other letters, leaving the one
from Belinda to the last.

"Now, what does the creature want?" she said aloud, and at the sound of
her own voice, she glanced round the room. She had taken for granted
that May had been following behind her and had sat down, somewhere,
absorbed in her letters. There was no one in the room and the door was
closed. She opened the letter and began to read:

"My dear Lena,

"I am a bit taken by surprise at Gwen's news! How rapidly it must
have happened! But I have no right to complain, for it sounds just
like a real old-fashioned love at first sight affair, and I can tell
by Gwen's letter that she knows her own mind and has taken a step
that will bring her happiness. Well, I suppose there is nothing that
a mother can do--in such a case--but to be submissive and very sweet
about it!"

Lady Dashwood's hand that held the letter was trembling, and her eyes
shifted from the lines. She clung to them desperately, and read on:

"I must try and not be jealous of Dr. Middleton. I must be very
'dood.' But just at the moment it is rather sudden and overpowering
and difficult to realise. I had always thought of my little Gwen,
with her great beauty and attractiveness, mated to some one