ou should think so. You are very young still, and
there's no good in making the world ugly for you as long as it can seem
rosy."

"Please don't use that word," said Cecily, with emphasis. It annoyed
her to be treated as immature in mind. "I am the last person to take
rosy views of life. But there is something between the distrust to
which you are driven by misery and the optimism of foolish people."

"We won't argue about it. Every woman must take life as she finds it.
To me it is a hateful weariness. I hope I mayn't have much of it still
before me; what there is, I will live in independence. You know Mrs.
Calder?"

"Yes."

"Her position is the same as mine has been, but she has more
philosophy; she lets things take their course, just turning her eyes
away."

"That is ignoble, hateful!" exclaimed Cecily.

"So I think, but women as a rule don't. At all events, they are content
to whine a little, and do nothing. Poor wretches, what _can_ they do,
as I said?"

"They can go away, and, if need be, starve."

"They have children."

Cecily became mute.

"Will you let me come and see you now and then?" Mrs. Travis asked
presently.

"Come whenever you feel you would like to," Cecily answered, rousing
herself from reverie.

The house in which Mrs. Travis now lived was a quarter of an hour's
drive beyond that of the Elgars; she would have alighted and walked,
making nothing of it, but of course Cecily could not allow this. The
coachman was directed to make the circuit. When Cecily reached home, it
was after one o'clock.

CHAPTER II

THE PROPRIETIES DEFENDED

The house was in Belsize Park. Light shone through the blind of one of
the upper windows, but the rest of the front was lifeless. Cecily's
ring at the bell sounded distinctly; it was answered at once by a
maid-servant, who said that Mr. Elgar was still in the library. Having
spoken a few words, ending with a kind good night, Cecily passed
through the hall and opened the library door.

A reading-lamp made a bright sphere on the table, but no one sat within
its rays. After a fruitless glance round the room, Cecily called her
husband's name. There was a sound of moving, and she saw that Reuben
was on a sofa which the shadow veiled.

"Have you been asleep?" she asked merrily, as she approached him.

He stood up and stretched himself, muttering.

"Why didn't you go to bed, poor boy? I'm dreadfully late; I went out of
my way to take some one home."