’Do forgive me!  What right have I to ask anything of the kind?  But I have been very restless since Sunday.  I wished so to meet you, if only for a few minutes.  Only an hour or two ago I posted a letter to you.’

Monica said nothing.

’It was to ask you to meet me next Sunday, as we arranged.  Shall you be able to do so?’

’I’m afraid I can’t.  At the end of this week I leave my place here, and on Sunday I shall be moving to another part of London.’

‘You are leaving?  You have decided to make the change you spoke of?’

‘Yes.’

‘And will you tell me where you are going to live?’

’In lodgings near Great Portland Street.  I must say good-night, Mr. Widdowson.  I must, indeed.’

‘Please—­do give me one moment!’

‘I can’t stay—­I can’t—­good-night!’

It was impossible for him to detain her.  Ungracefully he caught at his hat, made the salute, and moved away with rapid, uneven strides.  In less than half an hour he was back again at this spot.  He walked past the shop many times without pausing; his eyes devoured the front of the building, and noted those windows in which there was a glimmer of light.  He saw girls enter by the private door, but Monica did not again show herself.  Some time after midnight, when the house had long been dark and perfectly quiet, the uneasy man took a last look, and then sought a cab to convey him home.

The letter of which he had spoken reached Monica’s hands next morning.  It was a very respectful invitation to accompany the writer on a drive in Surrey.  Widdowson proposed to meet her at Herne Hill railway station, where his vehicle would be waiting.  ’In passing, I shall be able to point out to you the house which has been my home for about a year.’

As circumstances were, it would be hardly possible to accept this invitation without exciting curiosity in her sisters.  The Sunday morning would be occupied, probably, in going to the new lodgings and making the acquaintance of her future companion there; in the afternoon, her sisters were to pay here a visit, as Alice had decided to start for Somerset on the Monday.  She must write a refusal, but it was by no means her wish to discourage Widdowson altogether.  The note which at length satisfied her ran thus: 

’DEAR MR. WIDDOWSON—­I am very sorry that it will be impossible for me to see you next Sunday.  All day I shall be occupied.  My eldest sister is leaving London, and Sunday will be my last day with her, perhaps for a long time.  Please do not think that I make light of your kindness.  When I am settled in my new life, I hope to be able to let you know how it suits me.—­Sincerely yours,

MONICA MADDEN.’

In a postscript she mentioned her new address.  It was written in very small characters—­perhaps an unpurposed indication of the misgiving with which she allowed herself to pen the words.