that, Cynthy? Before you knew him, Philip had
exhausted his emotions--that's my reading of him. I don't for a moment
believe his wife was the only one, if what Geoffrey said of her, and
what one guesses, is true. She would never have contented him. And now
it's done. If he ever marries now, it will be for peace--not passion.
As I said before, Cynthy--and I mean no offence--your chances are
better than they were."

Cynthia winced and protested again, but all the same she was secretly
soothed by her odd sister's point of view. They began to discuss the
situation at the Rectory,--how Alice Alcott, their old friend, with her
small domestic resources, could possibly cope with it, if a long illness
developed.

"Either the woman will die, or she will be divorced," said Georgina
trenchantly. "And as soon as they know she isn't going to die, what on
earth will they do with her?"

As she spoke they were passing along the foot of the Rectory garden. The
Rectory stood really on the edge of the park, where it bordered on the
highroad; and their own cottage was only a hundred yards beyond. There
were two figures walking up and down in the garden. The Welwyns
identified them at once as the Rector and his sister.

Cynthia stopped.

"I shall go and ask Alice if we can do anything for her."

She made for the garden gate that opened on the park and called softly.
The two dim figures turned and came towards her. It was soon conveyed to
the Alcotts that the Welwyns shared their knowledge, and a conversation
followed, almost in whispers under a group of lilacs that flung round
them the scents of the unspoilt summer. Alice Alcott, to get a breath of
air, had left her patient in the charge of their old housemaid, for a
quarter of an hour, but must go back at once and would sit up all night.
A nurse was coming on the morrow.

Then, while Georgina employed her rasping tongue on Mr. Alcott, Cynthia
and the Rector's sister conferred in low tones about various urgent
matters--furniture for the nurse's room, sheets, pillows, and the rest.
The Alcotts were very poor, and the Rectory had no reserves.

"Of course, we could send for everything to Beechmark," murmured
Miss Alcott.

"Why should you? It is so much further. We will send in everything you
want. What are we to call this--this person?" said Cynthia.

"Madame Melegrani. It is the name she has passed by for years."

"You say she is holding her own?"

"Just--with strychnine and br