nswer--to the subtle suggestions
of your letter.

"I admit that often marriages turn out hopeless--impossible; mere
prisons of degradation. But that is when the sacred tie is entered into
for other than the essential reasons of a perfect love and mutual need;
or without due consideration, 'unadvisedly, lightly, wantonly,'
notwithstanding the Church's warning. Or when people have found out
their mistake in time, yet lacked the required courage to break their
engagement, as I broke off mine with you, Aubrey; thus saving you and
myself a lifetime of regret and misery.

"Oh, cannot you see that the only real 'outer darkness' is the doing of
wrong? Disappointment, loss, loneliness, remorse--all these may be hard
to bear, but they can be borne in the light; they do not necessarily
belong to the outer darkness.

"May I ask you, as some compensation for the pain your letter has given
me, and the terrible effort this answer has cost, to bear with me if, in
closing, I quote to you in full the final words of the first chapter of
the first epistle of St. John? I do so with my heart full of hope and
prayer for you--yes, even for you, Aubrey. Because, though _my_ words
will probably fail to influence you, God has promised that _His_ Word
shall never return unto Him void.

"'If we walk in the light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship
one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us
from all sin.... If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to
forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.'

"Oh, Aubrey, act on this! It is true.

"Your cousin, who still hopes better things of you, and who will not
fail in thought and prayer,

"HELEN WEST."

Part III

CHAPTER X

RONNIE ARRIVES IN A FOG

Ronnie reached Liverpool Street Station at 8 o'clock on a foggy November
morning.

After the quiet night on the steamer, the landing in darkness at
Harwich, and the steady run up to town, alone in a first-class
compartment, he felt momentarily confused by the noise and movement
within the great city terminus.

The brilliant lights of the station, combined with the yellow fog
rolling in from the various entrances; the onward rush of many feet, as
hundreds of busy men and eager young women poured out of suburban
trains, hurrying to the scenes which called for their energy during the
whole of the coming day; the gliding in and out of trains, the passing
t