Osmond, he had always just missed her.

"This is a funny meeting place," she exclaimed, rather breathlessly. "It
never struck me before what a truly national institution the post office
is--a place where people of all creeds and opinions can meet together,
and are actually treated alike!"

Brian smiled.

"You have been very busy," he said, glancing at the innumerable
envelopes, which she was dropping as fast as might be into the narrow
receptacle. He could see that they were directed in her small, clear,
delicate handwriting.

"And you, too," she said, looking at his diminished bundle. "Mine are
secularist circulars, and yours, I suppose, are the other kind of thing,
but you see the same pillar eats them up quite contentedly. The post
office is beautifully national, it sets a good example."

She spoke lightly, but there was a peculiar tone in her voice which
betrayed great weariness. It made Brian look at her more attentively
than he had yet done--less from a lover's point of view, more from a
doctor's. She was very pale. Though the running had brought a faint
color to her cheeks, her lips were white, her forehead almost deathly.
He knew that she had never really been well since her mother's death,
but the change wrought within the last three weeks dismayed him; she was
the mere shadow of her former self.

"This hot weather is trying you," he said.

"Something is," she replied. "Work, or weather, or worry, or the three
combined."

"Come in and see my father," said Brian, "and be idle for a little time;
you will be writing more circulars if you go home."

"No, they are all done, and my examination is over, and there is nothing
special going on just now; I think that is why I feel so like breaking
down."

After a little more persuasion, she consented to go in and see Mr.
Osmond. The house always had a peculiarly restful feeling, and the mere
thought of rest was a relief to her; she would have liked the wheels of
life to stop for a little while, and there was rest in the mere change
of atmosphere. On the doorstep Brian encountered a patient, much to his
vexation; so he could only take Erica into the study, and go in search
of his father. He lingered however, just to tell him of his fears.

"She looks perfectly worn out; you must find out what is wrong, father,
and make her promise to see some one."

His tone betrayed such anxiety that his father would not smile although
he was secretly amused at the task dep