y from her headache, but from its cause. To Anne,
tingling with the tension of a nervous crisis, this attitude was
disconcerting. It seemed to reduce her and her crisis to insignificance.
She had expected him to be tingling too. He had more cause to.

"Do you mind my smoking? Say if you really do."

She really did, but she forbore to say so. Forbearance henceforth was to
be part of her discipline.

He smoked contentedly, with half-closed eyes; and when he talked, he
talked of the garden and of bulbs.

Of bulbs, after what he had discussed with Edith upstairs. She would
rather that he had asked his question, forced her to the issue. That at
least would have shown some comprehension of her state. But he had taken
the issue for granted, refused to face the immensity of it all. She had
had her first taste of sacrificial flames, and her spirit was prepared to
go through fire to reach him. And he presented himself as already folded
and protected; satisfied with some inferior and independent secret of his
own.

She felt that a little perturbation would have become him more than that
impenetrable peace.

It would make it so difficult to raise him.

CHAPTER V

The bell of St. Saviour's had ceased. Over the open market-place the air
throbbed with a thousand pulses from the dying heart of sound. The great
grey body of the Church was still; tower and couchant nave watched in
their monstrous, motionless dominion, till the music stirred in them like
a triumphant soul.

As they hurried over the open market-place, Anne realised with some
annoyance that she was late again for the Wednesday evening service. She
dearly loved punctuality and order, and disliked to be either checked or
hastened in her superb movements. She disliked to be late for anything.
Above all she disliked standing on a mat outside a closed church door, in
the middle of a General Confession, trying to surrender her spirit to the
spirit of prayer, while Walter lingered, murmuring profane urbanities
that claimed her as his own.

He had perceived what he called her innocent design, her transparent
effort to lead him to her heavenly heights. He had lent himself to
it, tenderly, gravely, as he would have lent himself to a child's
heart-rending play. He could not profess to follow the workings of his
wife's mind, but he did understand her point of view. She had been "let
in" for something she had not expected, and he was bound to make it up
to her.

T