latter did away with all privacy with regard to the act.

The letter was as follows:


'DEAR LEONARD,--Would it be convenient for you to meet me to-morrow,
Tuesday, at half-past twelve o'clock on the top of Caester Hill? I
want to speak about a matter that may have some interest to you, and
it will be more private there than in the house. Also it will be
cooler in the shade on the hilltop. -

Yours sincerely, STEPHEN NORMAN.'


Having posted the letter she went about the usual routine of her life
at Normanstand, and no occasion of suspicion or remark regarding her
came to her aunt.

In her room that night when she had sent away her maid, she sat down
to think, and all the misgivings of the day came back. One by one
they were conquered by one protective argument:

'I am free to do as I like. I am my own mistress; and I am doing
nothing that is wrong. Even if it is unconventional, what of that?
God knows there are enough conventions in the world that are wrong,
hopelessly, unalterably wrong. After all, who are the people who are
most bound by convention? Those who call themselves "smart!" If
Convention is the god of the smart set, then it is about time that
honest people chose another!'