their meeting so long past. What could there be in common between
himself and that dim, quiet little girl, who had excited his
sympathy merely because her pretty face was made sad by the same
torments which had afflicted him? He needed some strong, vehement,
original nature, such as Ida Starr's; how would Maud's timid
conventionality--doubtless she was absolutely conventional--suit
with the heresies of which he was all compact? Still, he could not
well ignore what had taken place between them, and, after all, there
would be a certain pleasant curiosity in awaiting her reply. In any
case, he would write just such a letter as came naturally from him.
If she were horrified, well, there was an end of the matter.

Accordingly, he sat down on the morning after his visit to Ida, and,
after a little difficulty in beginning, wrote a long letter. It was
mainly occupied with a description of his experiences in Litany Lane
and Elm Court. He made no apology for detailing such unpleasant
matters, and explained that he would henceforth be kept in pretty
close connection with this unknown world. Even this, he asserted,
was preferable to the world of Dr. Tootle's Academy. Then he dwelt a
little on the contrast between this life of his and that which Maud
was doubtless leading in her home on the Essex coast; and finally he
hoped she would write to him when she found leisure, and be able to
let him know that she was no longer so unhappy as formerly.

This he posted on Friday. On the following Monday morning, the post
brought two letters for him, both addressed in female hand, one
bearing a city, the other a country, post-mark. Waymark smiled as he
compared the two envelopes, on one of which his name stood in firm,
upright characters, on the other in slender, sloping, delicate
writing. The former he pressed to his lips, then tore open eagerly;