.

"Mother," said Hilda, "I've known that he has not been happy ever since
his arrival in France, but I've never properly understood why. Peter is
queer in some ways, you know. You remember that sermon of his? He won't
be content with things; he's always worrying. And now he writes
dreadfully. He says..." She hesitated. Then, suddenly, she pulled out the
letter. "Listen, mother," she said, and read what Peter had written in
the club until the end. "'I am going to eat and drink with publicans and
sinners; maybe I shall find my Master still there.'"

If Langton could have seen Mrs. Lessing he would have smiled that cynical
smile of his with much satisfaction. She was frankly horrified--rendered,
in fact, almost speechless.

"Hilda!" she exclaimed. "What a thing to write to you! But what does he
mean? Has he forgotten that he is a clergyman? Why, it's positively
blasphemous! He is speaking of Christ, I suppose. My poor girl, he must
be mad. Surely you see that, dear."

Hilda stared on into the fire, and made no reply. Her mother hardly
needed one, "Has he met another woman, Hilda?" she demanded.

"I don't know; he doesn't say so," said Hilda miserably. "But anyhow, I
don't see that that matters."

"Not matter, girl! Are you mad too? He is your fiance, isn't he? Really,
I think I must speak to your father."

Hilda turned her head slowly, and mother and daughter looked at each
other. Mrs. Lessing was a woman of the world, but she was a good mother,
and she read in her daughter's eyes what every mother has to read sooner
or later. It was as one woman to another, and not as mother to daughter,
that she continued lamely: "Well, Hilda, what do you make of it all? What
are you going to do?"

The girl looked away again, and a silence fell between them. Then she
said, speaking in short, slow sentences:

"I will tell you what I make of it, mother. Peter's gone beyond me, I
think, now, that I have always feared a little that he might. Of course,
he's impetuous and headstrong, but it is more than that. He feels
differently from me, from all of us. I can see that, though I don't
understand him a bit. I thought" (her voice faltered) "he loved me more.
He knows how I wanted him to get on in the Church, and how I would have
helped him. But that's nothing to him, or next to nothing. I think he
doesn't love me at all, mother, and never really did."

Mrs. Lessing threw her head back. "Then he's a fool, my dear," she said
emphatic