e the responsibility of recommending him;
and in answering she advised him to apply to some of the physicians he
had worked with at Lynbrook, softening her refusal by the enclosure of a
small sum of money. To this letter she received no answer. Wyant
doubtless found the money insufficient, and resented her unwillingness
to help him by the use of her influence; and she felt sure that the note
before her contained a renewal of his former request.

An obscure reluctance made her begin to undress before opening it. She
felt slightly tired and indolently happy, and she did not wish any
jarring impression to break in on the sense of completeness which her
husband's coming always put into her life. Her happiness was making her
timid and luxurious: she was beginning to shrink from even trivial
annoyances.

But when at length, in her dressing-gown, her loosened hair about her
shoulders, she seated herself before the toilet-mirror, Wyant's note
once more confronted her. It was absurd to put off reading it--if he
asked for money again, she would simply confide the whole business to
Amherst.

She had never spoken to her husband of her correspondence with Wyant.
The mere fact that the latter had appealed to her, instead of addressing
himself to Amherst, made her suspect that he had a weakness to hide, and
counted on her professional discretion. But his continued importunities
would certainly release her from any such supposed obligation; and she
thought with relief of casting the weight of her difficulty on her
husband's shoulders.

She opened the note and read.

"I did not acknowledge your last letter because I was ashamed to tell
you that the money was not enough to be of any use. But I am past shame
now. My wife was confined three weeks ago, and has been desperately ill
ever since. She is in no state to move, but we shall be put out of these
rooms unless I can get money or work at once. A word from you would have
given me a start in New York--and I'd be willing to begin again as an
interne or a doctor's assistant.

"I have never reminded you of what you owe me, and I should not do so
now if I hadn't been to hell and back since I saw you. But I suppose you
would rather have me remind you than apply to Mr. Amherst. You can tell
me when to call for my answer."

Justine laid down the letter and looked up. Her eyes rested on her own
reflection in the glass, and it frightened her. She sat motionless, with
a thickly-beating hea