thickened, and the train came to a standstill in a tangle
that was almost a town.

The station, like the scenery, like Helen's letters,
struck an indeterminate note. Into which country will it
lead, England or Suburbia? It was new, it had island
platforms and a subway, and the superficial comfort exacted
by business men. But it held hints of local life, personal
intercourse, as even Mrs. Munt was to discover.

"I want a house," she confided to the ticket boy. "Its
name is Howards Lodge. Do you know where it is?"

"Mr. Wilcox!" the boy called.

A young man in front of them turned round.

"She's wanting Howards End."

There was nothing for it but to go forward, though Mrs.
Munt was too much agitated even to stare at the stranger.
But remembering that there were two brothers, she had the
sense to say to him, "Excuse me asking, but are you the
younger Mr. Wilcox or the elder?"

"The younger. Can I do anything for you?"

"Oh, well"--she controlled herself with difficulty.
"Really. Are you? I--" She moved away from the ticket boy
and lowered her voice. "I am Miss Schlegels aunt. I ought