ave. As to his
whereabouts I haven't the remotest idea."

"Do you mean to say, Fay, that he hasn't let you know where he is?"

"He didn't come with us to the flat because he was afraid he'd be seized
for debts and things. We've only been here a fortnight. He's probably
on board ship somewhere--there hasn't been much time for him to let me
know...."

Fay spoke plaintively, as though Jan were rather hard on Hugo in
expecting him to give his wife any account of his movements.

Jan was glad it was dark. She felt bewildered and oppressed and very,
very angry with her brother-in-law, who seemed to have left his entire
household in the care of Peter Ledgard. Was Peter paying for their very
food, she wondered? She'd put a stop to that, anyhow.

"Jan"--she felt Fay lean a little closer--"don't be down on me. You've
no idea how hard it has all been. You're such a daylight person
yourself."

"Hard on you, my precious! I could never feel the least little bit hard.
Only it's all so puzzling. And what do you mean by a 'daylight person'?"

"You know, Jan, for three months now I've been a lot alone, and I've
done a deal of thinking--more than ever in all my life before; and it
seems to me that the world is divided into three kinds of people--the
daylight people, and the twilight people and the night people."

Fay paused. Jan stroked her hot, thin hand, but did not speak, and the
tired, whispering voice went on: "_We_ were daylight people--Daddie was
very daylight. There were never any mysteries; we all of us knew always
where each of us was, and there were no secrets and no queer people
coming for interviews, and it wouldn't have mattered very much if
anyone _had_ opened one of our letters. Oh, it's such an _easy_ life in
the daylight country...."

"And in the twilight country?" asked Jan.

"Ah, there it's very different. Everything is mysterious. You never know
where anyone has gone, and if he's away queer people--quite horrid
people--come and ask for him and won't go away, and sit in the verandah
and cheek the butler and the boy and insist on seeing the 'memsahib,'
and when she screws up her courage and goes to them, they ask for money,
and show dirty bits of paper and threaten, and it's all awful--till
somebody like Peter comes and kicks them out, and then they simply fly."

In spite of her irritation at being beholden to him, Jan began to feel
grateful to Peter.

"Sometimes," Fay continued, "I think it would be easier