ar after year,
keeping the diaries, though she seldom looked at them.

"A.M.--Talked to Mrs. H. Elliot about country neighbours. She knows the
Manns; also the Selby-Carroways. How small the world is! Like her. Read
a chapter of _Miss_ _Appleby's_ _Adventure_ to Aunt E. P.M.--Played
lawn-tennis with Mr. Perrott and Evelyn M. Don't _like_ Mr. P. Have a
feeling that he is not 'quite,' though clever certainly. Beat them. Day
splendid, view wonderful. One gets used to no trees, though much too
bare at first. Cards after dinner. Aunt E. cheerful, though twingy, she
says. Mem.: _ask_ _about_ _damp_ _sheets_."

She knelt in prayer, and then lay down in bed, tucking the blankets
comfortably about her, and in a few minutes her breathing showed that
she was asleep. With its profoundly peaceful sighs and hesitations it
resembled that of a cow standing up to its knees all night through in
the long grass.

A glance into the next room revealed little more than a nose, prominent
above the sheets. Growing accustomed to the darkness, for the windows
were open and showed grey squares with splinters of starlight, one could
distinguish a lean form, terribly like the body of a dead person, the
body indeed of William Pepper, asleep too. Thirty-six, thirty-seven,
thirty-eight--here were three Portuguese men of business, asleep
presumably, since a snore came with the regularity of a great ticking
clock. Thirty-nine was a corner room, at the end of the passage, but
late though it was--"One" struck gently downstairs--a line of light
under the door showed that some one was still awake.

"How late you are, Hugh!" a woman, lying in bed, said in a peevish
but solicitous voice. Her husband was brushing his teeth, and for some
moments did not answer.

"You should have gone to sleep," he replied. "I was talking to
Thornbury."

"But you know that I never can sleep when I'm waiting for you," she
said.

To that he made no answer, but only remarked, "Well then, we'll turn out
the light." They were silent.

The faint but penetrating pulse of an electric bell could now be heard
in the corridor. Old Mrs. Paley, having woken hungry but without her
spectacles, was summoning her maid to find the biscuit-box. The maid
having answered the bell, drearily respectful even at this hour though
muffled in a mackintosh, the passage was left in silence. Downstairs all
was empty and dark; but on the upper floor a light still burnt in the
room where the boots had