entered the shop. A young female assistant came forward with
respectful smile, and waited her commands.

'I wish, if you please, to see Mrs. Peak.'

'Oh yes, madam! Will you have the goodness to walk this way?'

Too late Marcella remembered that she ought to have gone to the
house-entrance. The girl led her out of the shop into a dark passage,
and thence into a sitting-room which smelt of lavender. Here she waited
for a few moments; then the door opened softly, and Mrs. Peak presented
herself.

There was no shock. The widow had the air of a gentlewoman--walked with
elderly grace--and spoke with propriety. She resembled Godwin, and this
time it was not painful to remark the likeness.

'I have come to Twybridge,' began Marcella, gently and respectfully,
'that is to say, I have stopped in passing--to ask for the address of
Mr. Godwin Peak. A letter has failed to reach him.

It was her wish to manage without either disclosing the truth about
herself or elaborating fictions, but after the first words she felt it
impossible not to offer some explanation. Mrs. Peak showed a slight
surprise. With the courage of cowardice, Marcella continued more
rapidly:

'My name is Mrs. Ward. My husband used to know Mr. Peak, in London, a
few years ago, but we have been abroad, and unfortunately have lost
sight of him. We remembered that Mr. Peak's relatives lived at
Twybridge, and, as we wish very much to renew the old acquaintance, I
took the opportunity--passing by rail. I made inquiries in the town,
and was directed to you--I hope rightly'----

The widow's face changed to satisfaction. Evidently her straightforward
mind accepted the story as perfectly credible. Marcella, with
bitterness, knew herself far from comely enough to suggest perils. She
looked old enough for the part she was playing, and the glove upon her
hand might conceal a wedding-ring.

'Yes, you were directed rightly,' Mrs. Peak made quiet answer. 'I shall
be very glad to give you my son's address. He left London about last
Christmas, and went to live at Exeter.'

'Exeter? We thought he might be out of England.'

'No; he has lived all the time at Exeter. The address is Longbrook
Street'--she added the number. 'He is studying, and finds that part of
the country pleasant. I am hoping to see him here before very long.'

Marcella did not extend the conversation. She spoke of having to catch
a train, and veiled as well as she could beneath ordinary courtesies
her