ke the post of
governess-companion to the two small children with whom she was already
on terms of friendship.

For a moment Toni hesitated. To stay on here, deceiving her employers,
representing herself, falsely, as an unmarried woman, would be a poor
return for their kindness and generosity; but to tell the truth was
surely impossible. Yet she could not bring herself to shut the door
which would open to her a new and honourable life in which she might
find, if not happiness, at least content; and poor Toni was torn between
conflicting emotions as she stood listening to her new friend's
proposals.

Mrs. Moody, reading her indecision in her face, bade her think the
matter over for a week while she remained with them as an honoured
guest; and Toni did so, coming at last to the conclusion that, much as
she longed to accept the post, to do so would not be fair to her
prospective employers.

She refused, therefore, but with so genuine a regret that the refusal
could not give offence. The Moodys, however, while recognizing the
girl's claim to independence of judgment, in their turn asserted their
claim to befriend her, and Toni was only too ready to accept their
advice and assistance.

Hearing that it was of importance that she should set about making some
money without delay, Mr. Moody secured for her a post as
assistant-librarian and secretary in a big library belonging to an
Italian friend of his own.

It was something of an irony that Toni's work should take her into an
atmosphere that could not fail to remind her of her husband and his
literary aspirations; and her heart used to contract pitifully within
her sometimes when she entered the big, lofty, book-lined room, which
was not unlike the stately library in the beautiful old house by the
river where her married life had come to so tragic a close.

She owed the post to her proficiency in Italian and English rather than
to any scholarly ability. To the end of her life Toni would never be
bookish. She would always prefer living to reading about life; and it
was fortunate that her work in this new library consisted largely of
translating, roughly, from books in Italian and English, or in typing,
from dictation, in either language.

She grew to like her employment in the quiet, mediaeval-looking room. Her
employer, a gentle, sad-eyed elderly man with an invalid daughter,
treated her with the utmost kindness; and if it had not been that every
fibre in her being c