Rhoda's voice sank for a moment; her eyes wandered; but she recovered
the air of confidence.

'We seemed to have lost you; but before long you will be one of us
again. I mean, you will be one of the women who are fighting in woman's
cause. You will prove by your life that we can be responsible human
beings--trustworthy, conscious of purpose.'

'Tell me--do you think it right for me to live with my husband when I
can't even regard him as a friend?'

'In that I dare not counsel you. If you _can_ think of him as a friend,
in time to come, surely it will be better. But here you must guide
yourself. You seem to have made a very sensible arrangement, and before
long you will see many things more clearly. Try to recover
health--health; that is what you need. Drink in the air of the Severn
Sea; it will be a cordial to you after this stifling London. Next
summer I shall--I hope I shall be at Cheddar, and then I shall come
over to Clevedon--and we shall laugh and talk as if we had never known
a care.'

'Ah, it that time were come! But you have done me good. I shall try--'

She rose.

'I mustn't forget,' said Rhoda, without looking at her, 'that I owe you
thanks. You have done what you felt was right in spite of all it cost
you; and you have very greatly relieved my mind. Of course it is all a
secret between us. If I make it understood that a doubt is no longer
troubling me I shall never say how it was removed.'

'How I wish I had come before.'

'For your own sake, if I have really helped you, I wish you had. But as
for anything else--it is much better as it is.'

And Rhoda stood with erect head, smiling her smile of liberty. Monica
did not dare to ask any question. She moved up to her friend, holding
out both hands timidly.

'Good-bye!'

'Till next summer.'

They embraced, and kissed each other, Monica, when she had withdrawn
her hot lips, again murmuring words of gratitude. Then in silence they
went together to the house-door, and in silence parted.

CHAPTER XXX

RETREAT WITH HONOUR

Alighting, on his return to London, at the Savoy Hotel, Barfoot
insensibly prolonged his stay there. For the present he had no need of
a more private dwelling; he could not see more than a few days ahead;
his next decisive step was as uncertain as it had been during the first
few months after his coming back from the East.

Meantime, he led a sufficiently agreeable life. The Brissendens were
not in town, but his gro