bag always carried. But she said nothing. Stephen wondered, but waited.

That night, when Stephen’s maid had left her, there came a gentle tap at her door, and an instant after the door opened. The tap had been a warning, not a request; it had in a measure prepared Stephen, who was not surprised to see her Aunt in dressing-gown, though it was many a long day since she had visited her niece’s room at night. She closed the door behind her, saying:

‘There is something I want to talk to you about, dearest, and I thought it would be better to do so when there could not be any possible interruption. And besides,’ here there was a little break in her voice, ‘I could hardly summon up my courage in the daylight.’ She stopped, and the stopping told its own story. In an instant Stephen’s