violently across Carroll's note-paper. Helen felt that in some
way she was being treated as an intruder; or worse, as a guest.
She did not sit down, it seemed impossible to do so, but she
moved uncertainly about the room. She noted that there were
many changes, it seemed more bare and empty; her picture was
still on the writing-desk, but there were at least six new
photographs of Marion. Marion herself had brought them to the
room that morning, and had carefully arranged them in conspicuous
places. But Helen could not know that. She thought there was an
unnecessary amount of writing scribbled over the face of each.

Marion addressed her letter and wrote "Immediate" across the
envelope, and placed it before the clock on the mantelshelf.
"You will find Philip looking very badly," she said, as she
pulled on her gloves. "He has been in town all summer, working
very hard--he has had no holiday at all. I don't think he's
well. I have been a great deal worried about him," she added.
Her face was bent over the buttons of her glove, and when she
raised her blue eyes to Helen they were filled with serious
concern.

"Really," Helen stammered, "I--I didn't know--in his letters he
seemed very cheerful."

Marion shook her head and turned and stood looking
thoughtfully out of the window. "He's in a very hard place," she
began abruptly, and then stopped as though she had thought better
of what she intended to say. Helen tried to ask her to go on,
but could not bring herself to do so. She wanted to get away.