ndicated above, and was relegated to the region of things for
which Vyvian had no use. He detested infants; children of any sort, in
fact; and particularly Thomas, who had Peter's physiognomy and expressed
Peter's sentiments in a violently ill-bred way.

Peter, a little later, was very glad that Thomas had revealed himself
thus openly on this occasion. For it quite sealed Thomas's fate, if
anything more was needed to seal it than the fact that Thomas would be
an impossible burden, and also belonged by right to Peter. Anyhow, they
left Thomas behind them when they went.

Rhoda wrote a scrawled note for Peter one foggy Monday morning, and
hugged Thomas close and cried a little, and slipped out into the misty
city with a handbag. Peter, coming in at tea-time, found the note on
the sitting-room chimney-piece. It said:--

"Don't try to follow me, Peter, for I can't come back. I _have_ tried to
care for you more than him and be a good wife, but I can't. You know I
told you when we got engaged that I cared for him, and I tried so hard
to stop, and I thought I would be able, with you to help me, but I
couldn't do it. For the first few months I thought I could, but all the
time it was there, like a fire in me, eating me up; and later on he began
writing to me, but for a long time I wouldn't answer, and then he came to
see me, and I said he mustn't, but he's been meeting me out and I
couldn't stop him, and at last it grew that I knew I loved him so that it
was no use pretending any more. I'd better go, Peter, for what's the use
of trying to be a good wife to you when all I care for is him. I know
he's not good, and you are, but I love him, and I must go when he wants
me. It was all a mistake; you and I ought never to have married. You
meant it kindly, I know; you meant to help me and make me happy, but it
was no use. You and I never properly belonged. When I saw you and Lucy
together, I knew we didn't belong, not like that; we didn't properly
understand each other's ways and thoughts, like you two did. I love Lucy,
too. You and she are so like. And she'll be good to Baby; she said she
would. I hate to leave Baby, but Guy won't let me bring him, and anyhow
I suppose I couldn't, because he's yours. I've written a list of his
feeds, and it's on the chimney-piece behind the clock; please make
whoever sees to him go by it or he gets a pain. Please be careful when
you bath him; I think Mrs. Adams had better do it usually. She'll take