perplexity at the information she had received.

When she again reached the house at Notting Hill, Christian was absent.
He came home about nine in the evening. It was impossible not to remark
his strange mood of repressed excitement; but Marcella did not question
him, and Christian had resolved to conceal the day's event until he
could speak of it without agitation. Before they parted for the night,
Marcella said carelessly:

'I have decided to go down to Budleigh Salterton when the time comes.'

'That's right!' exclaimed her brother, with satisfaction. 'You couldn't
do better--couldn't possibly. It will be a very good thing for you in
several ways.'

And each withdrew to brood over a perturbing secret.

CHAPTER III

Three or four years ago, when already he had conceived the idea of
trying his fortune in some provincial town, Peak persuaded himself that
it would not be difficult to make acquaintances among educated people,
even though he had no credentials to offer. He indulged his fancy and
pictured all manner of pleasant accidents which surely, sooner or
later, must bring him into contact with families of the better sort.
One does hear of such occurrences, no doubt. In every town there is
some one or other whom a stranger may approach: a medical man--a local
antiquary--a librarian--a philanthropist; and with moderate advantages
of mind and address, such casual connections may at times be the
preface to intimacy, with all resulting benefits. But experience of
Exeter had taught him how slight would have been his chance of getting
on friendly terms with any mortal if he had depended solely on his
personal qualities. After a nine months' residence, and with the
friendship of such people as the Warricombes, he was daily oppressed by
his isolation amid this community of English folk. He had done his
utmost to adopt the tone of average polished life. He had sat at the
tables of worthy men, and conversed freely with their sons and
daughters; he exchanged greetings in the highways: but this availed him
nothing. Now, as on the day of his arrival, he was an alien--a lodger.
What else had he ever been, since boyhood? A lodger in Kingsmill, a
lodger in London, a lodger in Exeter. Nay, even as a boy he could
scarcely have been said to 'live at home', for from the dawn of
conscious intelligence he felt himself out of place among familiar
things and people, at issue with prevalent opinions. Was he never to
win a right