th hands. It was true. True. It was true.
The headlines were all she could see. She tried to read the text, but
the letters danced. She returned to the headlines.

SHOCKING OUTRAGE IN IRELAND

* * * *

LANDLORD SHOT

In the next column:--

M. C. C.'s HARD TASK

Her heart's action was less violent now. She understood; every second
increased her lucidity. Shot. Cairns was shot. Oh, she knew, he had
carried strife with him and some tenant had had his revenge. She took up
the paper and could read it now. Cairns had refused to make terms, and
on the morning of his death had served notices of eviction on eighteen
cottagers. The same night he was sitting at a window of his bailiff's
house. Then two shots from the other side of the road, another from
lower down. Cairns was wounded twice, in the lung and throat, and died
within twenty minutes. A man was under arrest.

Victoria put down the paper. Her mind was quite clear again. Poor old
Tom! She felt sorry but above all disturbed; every nerve in her body
seemed raw. Poor old Tom, a good fellow! He had been kind to her; and
now, there he was. Dead when he was thinking of coming back to her. He
would never see her again, the little house and things he loved. Yes, he
had been kind; he had saved her from that awful life . . . . Victoria's
thoughts turned into another channel. What was going to become of her.

'Old girl,' she said aloud, 'you're in the cart.'

She realised that she was again adrift, alone, face to face with the
terrible world. Cairns was gone; there was nobody to protect her against
the buffeting waves. A milkman's cart rattled by; she could hear the
distant rumble of the Underground, a snatch carried by the wind from a
German band. Well, the time had come; it had to come. She could not have
held Cairns for ever; and now she had to prove her mettle, to show
whether she had learned enough of the world, whether she had grit. The
thought struck cold at her, but an intimate counsellor in her brain was
already awake and crying out:

'Yes, yes, go on! you can do it yet.'

Victoria threw down the paper and jumped out of bed. She dressed
feverishly in the clothes and linen she had thrown in a heap on a chair
the night before, twisting her hair up into a rough coil. Just before
leaving the room she remembered she had not even washed her hands. She
did so hurriedly; then, seeing the cold cup of tea, drank it off at a
gulp;