ed
hard chair by the window; and I cry; and I watch the summer night and
all the golden stars, and I cannot say what I think of during all these
long and lonely hours; I only know that I cannot find energy to go to
bed. And I never sleep a whole night through; the cramp comes on so
terribly that I jump up screaming. Oh, Alice, how I hate _him!_ When I
think of it all I see how selfish men are; they never think of us--they
only think of themselves. You would scarcely know me if you saw me now;
all my complexion--you know what a pretty complexion it was--is all red
and mottled. When you saw me a fortnight ago I was all right: it is
extraordinary what a change has come about. I think it was the journey
and the excitement; there would be no concealing the truth now. It is
lucky I left Galway when I did.

'Mother gave me five pounds on leaving home. My ticket cost nearly
thirty shillings, a pound went in cabs and hotel expenses, and my
breakfasts brought my bill up yesterday to two pounds--I cannot think
how, for I only pay sixteen shillings for my room--and when it was paid
I had only a few shillings left. Will you, therefore, send the money you
promised, if possible, by return of post?
'Always affectionately yours,
'MAY GOULD.'

The tears started to Alice's eyes as she read the letter. She did not
consider if May might have spared her the physical details with which
her letter abounded; she did not stay to think of the cause, of the
result; for the moment she was numb to ideas and sensations that were
not those of humble human pity for humble human suffering: like the
waters of a new baptism, pity made her pure and whole, and the false
shame of an ancient world fell from her. Leaning her head on her strong,
well-shaped hand, she set to arranging her little plans for her friend's
help--plans that were charming for their simplicity, their sweet
homeliness. The letter she had just read had come by the afternoon post,
and if she were to send May the money she wrote for that evening, it
would be necessary to go into Gort to register the letter. Gort was two
miles away; and if she asked for the carriage her mother might propose
that the letters should be sent in by a special messenger. This of
course was impossible, and Alice, for the first time in her life found
herself obliged to tell a deliberate lie. For a moment her conscience
stood at