"Thanks. I'll leave my boxes here and walk there."

"I can save you the trouble. Her husband is guard on the 4.52. If
you can fill up the time till then, it will save you walking all
that way, perhaps, for no purpose."

Mavis thanked the station-master, left her luggage in his care and
walked to the town, where the unmistakable London cut of her well-
worn clothes attracted the attention of the female portion of the
population. She had a cup of tea in a confectioner's, and felt
better for it. She then set out to walk to her old favourite nook on
the banks of the river, a spot rich with associations of her
childhood. Her nearest way was to walk across the churchyard to the
meadows, the third of which bordered the Avon. It only needed a
quarter of an hour's walk along its banks to find the place she
wanted. Unconsciously, her steps led her in a contrary direction
from that in which she had purposed going. Almost before she knew
what she had done, she had taken the road to Haycock Abbey, which
was Windebank's Wiltshire home. It required something of an effort
to enable her to retrace her steps. She reached and crossed the
churchyard, where long forgotten memories crowded upon her; it was
with heavy heart that she struck across the meadows.

When she reached the Avon, she found the river to be swollen with
the winter's rain. The water, seamed with dark streaks, flowed
turbulently, menacingly, past her feet. She walked along the river's
deserted bank to the place that she had learned to look upon as her
own. Its discovery gave her much of a shock. She had always pictured
it in her mind as when she had last seen it. Then, it had been in