f guilt
in their presence, as if she were there on false pretences. For,
together with her daily work, much of her confidence had gone; an
inexplicable shame constantly troubled her. She longed to hide herself
away, and be alone with her wretchedness.

If it came to asking for help, of whom could she ask it but of Waymark?
Yet for some time she felt she could not bring herself to that. In the
consciousness of her own attitude towards him, it seemed to her that
Waymark might well doubt the genuineness of her need, might think it a
mere feint to draw him into nearer relations. She could not doubt that
he knew her love for him; she did not desire to hide it, even had she
been able. But him she could not understand. A struggle often seemed
going on within him in her presence; he appeared to repress his
impulses; he was afraid of her. At times passion urged her to break
through this barrier between them, to bring about a situation which
would end in clear mutual understanding, cost her what it might. At
other times she was driven to despair by the thought that she had made
herself too cheap in his eyes. Could she put off the last vestige of
her independence, and, in so many words, ask him to give her money?

This evening she expected Waymark, but the usual time of his coming
went by. She sat in the twilight, listening with painful intentness to
every step on the stairs; again and again her heart leaped at some
footfall far below, only to be deceived. She had not even now made up
her mind how to speak to him, or whether to speak to him at all; but
she longed passionately to see him. The alternations of hope and
disappointment made her feverish. Illusions began to possess her. Once
she heard distinctly the familiar knock. It seemed to rouse her from
slumber: she sprang to the door and opened it, but no one was there.
She ran half way down the stairs, but saw no one. It was now nearly
midnight. The movement had dispelled for a little the lethargy which
was growing upon her, and she suddenly came to a resolution. Taking a
sheet of note-paper, she wrote this:--

"I have been without work for a fortnight. All my money is done, and I
am in want. Can you send me some, for present help, till I get more
work? _Do not bring it yourself, and do not speak a word of this when
you see me, I beg you earnestly_. If I shall fail to get work, I will
speak to you of my own accord.

I. S."

She went out and posted this, though she had