than before. I didn't insist, but I tried there in the lobby, so far as
a pressure of his hand could serve me, to give him a notion of what I
thought him. "I can't at any rate make out," I said, "why I didn't hear
from Mrs. Meldrum."

"She didn't write to you?"

"Never a word. What has become of her?"

"I think she's at Folkestone," Dawling returned; "but I'm sorry to say
that practically she has ceased to see us."

"You haven't quarrelled with her?"

"How _could_ we? Think of all we owe her. At the time of our marriage,
and for months before, she did everything for us: I don't know how we
should have managed without her. But since then she has never been near
us and has given us rather markedly little encouragement to keep up
relations with her."

I was struck with this, though of course I admit I am struck with all
sorts of things. "Well," I said after a moment, "even if I could imagine
a reason for that attitude it wouldn't explain why she shouldn't have
taken account of my natural interest."

"Just so." Dawling's face was a windowless wall. He could contribute
nothing to the mystery and, quitting him, I carried it away. It was not
till I went down to ace Mrs. Meldrum that was really dispelled. She
didn't want to hear of them or to talk of them, not a bit, and it was
just in the same spirit that she hadn't wanted to write of them. She had