With Mutimer she shook hands.

It was a starry and cold night.  The two walked side by side without speaking.  When they were fifty yards on their way, a figure came out of a corner of the road, and Adela heard Letty call her name.

‘I will overtake you,’ she said to her husband.

‘Adela, my sweet, I couldn’t say good-bye to you in the house!’

Letty hung about her dear one’s neck.  Adela choked; she could only press her cheek against that moist one.

‘Write to me often—­oh, write often,’ Letty sobbed.  ’And tell me the truth, darling, will you?’

‘It will be all well, dear sister,’ Adela whispered.

’Oh, that is a dear name!  Always call me that.  I can’t say good-bye, darling.  You will come to see us as soon as ever you can?’

‘As soon as I can, Letty.’

Adela found her husband awaiting her.

‘What did she want?’ he asked, with genuine surprise.

‘Only to say good-bye.’

‘Why, she’d said it once.’

The interior of the Manor was not yet disturbed, but all the furniture was sold, and would be taken away on the morrow.  They went to the drawing room.  After some insignificant remarks Mutimer asked: 

‘What letter was that Westlake gave you?’

‘It was from Stella—­from Mrs. Westlake.’

He paused.  Then: 

‘Will you let me see it?’

‘Certainly, if you wish.’

She felt for it in her bosom and handed it to him.  It shook in her fingers.

‘Why does she think you’d rather she didn’t come?’

‘I suppose because the occasion seems to her painful.’

’I don’t see that it was painful at all.  What did you think of my speech?’

‘The first one or the second?’

‘Both, if you like.  I meant the first.’

‘You told the story very well.’

‘You’ll never spoil me by over-praise.’

Adela was silent.

‘About this,’ he resumed, tapping the note. which he still held.  ’I don’t think you need go there very often.  It seems to me you don’t get much good from them.’

She looked at him inquiringly.

‘Theirs isn’t the kind of Socialism I care much about,’ he continued, with the air of giving a solid reason.  ’It seems to me that Westlake’s going off on a road of his own, and one that leads nowhere.  All that twaddle to-day about the development of society!  I don’t think he spoke of me as he might have done.  You’ll see there won’t be half a report in the “Fiery Gross."’

Adela was still silent.

’I don’t mean to say you’re not to see Mrs. Westlake at all, if you want to,’ he pursued.  ’I shouldn’t have thought she was the kind of woman to suit you.  If the truth was known, I don’t think she’s a Socialist at all.  But then, no more are you, eh?’

’There is no one with a more passionate faith in the people than Mrs. Westlake,’ Adela returned.