came a short note from Mr. Bolter, saying that he had suspected that
something was wrong, and that under the circumstances he could of
course only say good-bye.

I can't say that I was sorry; I can't say that I was glad. I
despised him for his meanness, not even troubling myself to try and
make sure of what had happened. The same night Edwards came to see
me again, made excuses, blamed his friend, shuffled here and there,
and gave me clearly to understand what he wanted. I scarcely spoke,
only told him to go away, and that he need never speak to me
anywhere or at any time; it would be useless. Well, I changed my
lodgings for those I now have, and simply began the life I now--
the life I have been leading. Work was more impossible for me than
ever, and I had to feed and clothe myself."

"How long ago was that?" asked Waymark, without looking up.

"Four months."

Ida rose from the beach. The tide had gone down some distance; there
were stretches of smooth sand, already dry in the sunshine.

"Let us walk back on the sands," she said, pointing.

"You are going home?"

"Yes, I want to rest a little. I will meet you again about eight
o'clock, if you like."

Waymark accompanied her as far as the door, then strolled on to his