'I promised to write to him. He is staying at Agworth.'

'You mustn't do that, dear. I will write to him myself, then I can
thank him for returning the book. What is his address?'

Letty gave it.

'It is, of course, impossible for me to see him,' pursued Adela,
still in the same measured tones. 'If I write myself it will save
you any more trouble. Forget it, if I seemed unkind, dear.'

'Adela, I can't forget it. You are not like yourself, not at all.
Oh, how I wish this had happened sooner! Why, why can't you see him,
darling? I think you ought to; I do really think so.'

'I must be the best judge of that, Letty. Please let us speak of it
no more.'

The sweet girl-face was adamant, its expression a proud virginity;
an ascetic sternness moulded the small, delicate lips. Letty's
countenance could never have looked like that.

Left to herself again, Adela took the parcel upon her lap and sat
dreaming. It was long before her face relaxed; when it did so, the
mood that succeeded was profoundly sorrowful. One would have said
that it was no personal grief that absorbed her, but compassion for
the whole world's misery.

When at length she undid the wrapping, her eye was at once caught by
the papers within the volume. She started, and seemed afraid to