The deceit of both of them hurt her immensely. But she pulled herself
together. It was a case for action. She felt a bitter, amused contempt,
but she felt it half-urgent _not_ to do anything that would lead to a
life of miserable bickering and mutual harm.

It must be stopped. And without making Bruce hate her.

She wrote the second note of this strange day and sent it by a
messenger.

Giving no reason of any kind, she told the governess that she had
decided the children's holidays should begin from that day, and that
she was unexpectedly going away with them almost immediately, and she
added that she would not require Miss Townsend any more. She enclosed a
cheque, and said she would send on some books and small possessions
that Miss Townsend had kept there.

This was sent by a messenger to Miss Townsend's home near Westbourne
Grove. She would find it on her return from her walk!

And now Edith read Aylmer's note--it was so real, so sincere, she began
to disbelieve her eyes this morning.

It gave her more courage; she wanted to be absolutely calm, and looking
her very best, for Bruce's entrance.

He came in with his key. He avoided her eye a little--looked rather
sheepish, she thought. It was about seven.

'Hallo! Aren't the children in yet? Far too late for them to be out.'