n them. Storran
glanced across at her with suddenly observant eyes.

"What is it?" he asked quickly. "You look worried. Are you?"

She nodded silently.

"And here I've been grousing away about my own affairs all the time! Why
didn't you stop me?"

"You know I'm interested in your affairs."

"And I'm interested in yours. What's bothering you, Gillian? Tell me."

"Magda," said Gillian simply.

She was rather surprised to observe that Dan's face did not, as usual,
darken at the mere mention of Magda's name.

"I saw her the other day," he said quickly. "I was in the Park and she
drove by."

Gillian felt that there was something more to come. She waited in
silence.

"She has altered very much," he went on bluntly. Then, after a moment:
"I felt--sorry for her."

"_You_ did, Dan?" Gillian's face lit up. "I'm glad. I've always hated
your being so down on her."

With an abrupt movement he jabbed the glowing stub of his cigarette on
to an ash-tray, pressing it down until it went out. Then, taking out his
case, he lit another before replying.

"I shan't be 'down on her' any more," he said at last. "I never guessed
she'd felt things--like that."

"No. No one did. I don't suppose even Magda herself knew she could ever
go through all she has done just for an ideal."

Then very quietly, very simply and touchingly, she told him the story of
all that had happened, of Magda's final intention of becoming a working
member of the sisterhood, and of Lady Arabella's letter summoning
Michael back to England.

"But even when he comes," added Gillian, "unless he is very
careful--unless he loves her in the biggest way a man can love, so that
_nothing else matters_, he'll lose her. He'll have to convince her that
she means just that to him."

Storran was silent for a long time, and when at last he spoke it was
with an obvious effort.

"Listen," he said. "There's something you don't know. Perhaps when I've
told you, you won't have anything more to say to me--I don't know."

Gillian opened her lips in quick disclaimer, but he motioned her to be
silent.

"Wait," he said. "Wait till you've heard what I have to say. You think,
and Magda thinks, that June died of a broken heart--at least, that the
shock of all that miserable business down at Stockleigh helped to kill
her."

"Yes." Gillian assented mechanically when he paused.

"I thought so, too, once. It was what June's sister told me--told
everyone. But it wasn't true. S