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clasp steady on his arm and smiled, looking before her.

‘I do hope,’ she said presently, for Clive said nothing and the pause that fell between them became perceptible, ‘that it is not a real sacrifice to you both; I hope you are not doing it only on my account.’

Clive already felt the change in her. How should he not? What availed the sweetest words if the voice that spoke them went to a different tune? And how banish the stiffened rhythm when the night thoughts that had come to her after Hester’s visit pressed in upon her and she saw them all—all fulfilled? She had run away from Hester, and Hester followed her, with generous hands outstretched. Hester accepted her and it remained for her now to accept Hester. That was what it all came to. It was a contest between her and Hester in which she was worsted beforehand; since it was Hester who possessed Clive and was in no peril of losing him. She remembered now the long glance that she had cast upon them as he led her away. It had all been rehearsed between them; all arranged, so that Hester should have the full credit of her magnanimity.

‘Sacrifice?’ Clive repeated the word a long time after she had spoken it, as though he had been