crying into her new, queer-smelling mourning handkerchief.

"But what else could we have done?" asked Constantia wonderingly. "We
couldn't have kept him, Jug--we couldn't have kept him unburied. At any
rate, not in a flat that size."

Josephine blew her nose; the cab was dreadfully stuffy.

"I don't know," she said forlornly. "It is all so dreadful. I feel we
ought to have tried to, just for a time at least. To make perfectly sure.
One thing's certain"--and her tears sprang out again--"father will never
forgive us for this--never!"


Chapter 3.VI.

Father would never forgive them. That was what they felt more than ever
when, two mornings later, they went into his room to go through his things.
They had discussed it quite calmly. It was even down on Josephine's list
of things to be done. "Go through father's things and settle about them."
But that was a very different matter from saying after breakfast:

"Well, are you ready, Con?"

"Yes, Jug--when you are."

"Then I think we'd better get it over."

It was dark in the hall. It had been a rule for years never to disturb
father in the morning, whatever happened. And now they were going to open