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“Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. “Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. This done, she waited at the side of the bed; but he gave no sign that he was conscious of her nearness. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. He had been abusing them for a long time when I arrived. His energy began to slip away and she sank her teeth into his fat carotid artery below the piano wire, which had drawn blood from his neck. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. “She cannot be aware,” he continued, “that she is making herself conspicuous. I think he got sick of us and he disappeared not one week later. Here again the clothes were minus the labels. ’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Joan Ibstock shamefacedly. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. He moved slightly, and she went on, with a slight catching of her breath: “It’s a bother and disturbance, but you see—” She had to go through with it now, because she could think of nothing but her preconceived words.

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