"Nothing," answered Margaret, wondering what would have happened if she
had added: "Though she did resent my husband's immorality."

"She always was highly strung," pursued Henry, leaning back in the
car as it shot past the church. "A tendency to spiritualism and those
things, though nothing serious. Musical, literary, artistic, but I
should say normal--a very charming girl."

Margaret's anger and terror increased every moment. How dare these
men label her sister! What horrors lay ahead! What impertinences that
shelter under the name of science! The pack was turning on Helen, to
deny her human rights, and it seemed to Margaret that all Schlegels were
threatened with her. "Were they normal?" What a question to ask! And it
is always those who know nothing about human nature, who are bored by
psychology--and shocked by physiology, who ask it. However piteous her
sister's state, she knew that she must be on her side. They would be mad
together if the world chose to consider them so.

It was now five minutes past three. The car slowed down by the farm, in
the yard of which Miss Avery was standing. Henry asked her whether a cab
had gone past. She nodded, and the next moment they caught sight of it,
at the end of the lane. The car ran silently like a beast of prey. So
unsuspicious was Helen that she was sitting in the porch, with her back
to the road. She had come. Only her head and shoulders were visible. She
sat framed in the vine, and one of her hands played with the buds. The
wind ruffled her hair, the sun glorified it; she was as she had always
been.

Margaret was seated next to the door. Before her husband could prevent
her, she slipped out. She ran to the garden gate, which was shut, passed
through it, and deliberately pushed it in his face. The noise alarmed
Helen. Margaret saw her rise with an unfamiliar movement, and, rushing
into the porch, learnt the simple explanation of all their fears--her
sister was with child.

"Is the truant all right?" called Henry.

She had time to whisper: "Oh, my darling--" The keys of the house were
in her hand. She unlocked Howards End and thrust Helen into it. "Yes,
all right," she said, and stood with her back to the door.

CHAPTER XXXVI

"Margaret, you look upset!" said Henry.

Mansbridge had followed. Crane was at the gate, and the flyman had stood
up on the box. Margaret shook her head at them; she could not speak any
more. She remained clutching the keys, as if all