g out the purple sheet, were shaking so that
the paper rustled. He did not hear her. Then he read the whole thing
through to its laconic end:

_It's yours_--honest to God. Can you help me a little? Sorry to trouble
you on your vacation.

Your friend,

LILY.

"What _is_ the matter with your hands?" Edith said, very much
interested.

CHAPTER XI

When, a year after his marriage, Maurice began to awaken to Eleanor's
realities, maturity had come to him with a bound. But it was almost age
that fell upon him when Lily's realities confronted him. In the late
afternoon, as he and Edith and the silent Johnny walked down the
mountain, he was dizzy with terror of Lily!

_She was blackmailing him._

But even as he said the word, he had an uprush of courage; he would get
a lawyer, and shut her up! That's what you do when anybody blackmails
you. Perfectly simple. "A lawyer will shut her up!" It was a hideous
mess, and he had no money to spend on lawyers; but it would never get
out--the newspapers couldn't get hold of it--because a lawyer would shut
her up! Though, probably, he'd have to give her some money? How much
would he have to give her? And how much would he have to pay the lawyer?
He had a crazy vision of Lily's attaching his salary. He imagined a
dialogue with his employer: "A case of blackmail, sir." "Don't worry
about it, Curtis; we'll shut her up." This brought an instant's warm
sense of safety, which as instantly vanished--and again he was walking
down the road, with Edith beside him, talking, talking... Eleanor would
have to know... No! She wouldn't! He could keep it a secret. But he'd
have to tell Mr. Houghton. Then Mrs. Houghton would know! Again a wave
of nausea swept over him, and he shuddered; then said to himself: "No:
Uncle Henry's white. He won't even tell her."

Edith was asking him something; he said, "Yes," entirely at random--and
was at once involved in a snarl of other questions, and other random
answers. Under his breath he thought, despairingly, "Won't she ever
stop talking! ... Edith, I'll give you fifty cents if you'll keep
quiet."

Edith was willing enough to be quiet; "But," she added, practically,
"would you mind giving me the fifty cents now, Maurice? You always tear
off to Eleanor the minute you get home, and I'm afraid you'll forget
it."

He put his hand in his pocket and produced the half dollar. "Anything to
keep you still!" he said.

"You don't mind if I talk to Johnny?"