If she could have her married life over again, how different would she be! Now that she had known the wretchedness of living alone, in town, she could appreciate Queen’s Halt, and Stephen. It seemed that she could not exist without a husband, even though she did not love him, even though she had been unhappy with him. She supposed that if you had once been married you could not go back to an unmarried state without feeling a void, and a great want.

But if she went back to Stephen it must be as his wife. That was the obstacle that stood in the way. It would need more courage than she possessed. If she could return on platonic terms, she would do so to-morrow. She couldn’t. She thought that if Stephen still loved her and wanted her he would accept those terms, but they would be unfair to him, and the day of unfairness was over. It must be all or nothing; she had put shams and pretence aside. How hard that was only she knew, but she had learned a bitter lesson, and she made up her mind that she would profit by it. If she went back to Stephen she would be frank with him. He should know that she did not love him, so that if he did not want her like that, he might reject her.

He might not want her; he might have ceased to love her. It would be hard to send for him, hard for her pride. And if he did not come, how humiliated would she be! Then she thought, I can’t be more humiliated than I am now.

Wendell had knocked the pedestal from beneath her feet. She had played with Wendell, knowing in her heart of hearts that he was unsafe, knowing too that it was wrong. And Wendell had shown her to herself as she was. Her spirit still writhed under his accusations, for exaggerated though they were, each one contained a grain of truth.

Mr. Hengist came to see her, and pointed a stern finger.

“Knocked yourself up, I hear. You’re losing your looks, child.”

She smiled, but wearily, for she knew that this was so. The glass showed her pallor and her thinness; the glass showed tiny lines upon her forehead. She had aged.

“Have you come to scold me?” she asked. “Please don’t!”

“Not at all. I never scold. I merely offer good advice which you seldom take.”

“Oh!” she protested.

“Quite true. My advice now is, Go away.”

“Where?” she asked listlessly.

“Where would you like to go?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

“The sea?”

“Oh, no! That means crowds of holiday-makers and a horrible band.”

“Um! You never really liked the seaside, did you?”

“No,” she said. “Never.”

“Congratulations,” said Mr. Hengist.

She was puzzled; then she understood.