Horrible details recurred to her. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged. " "You flatter me," smiled Sir James. Horribly skinny he was, and short too. “Yes. She is chosen to learn magic. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover.
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