an had been drinking. Anyone could see that."

And Ida agreed, as she did to everything Mr. Tugnell said. Even when he
had suggested that she should settle half of Joseph Fenton's hard-earned
money on himself she had consented, knowing that he was a
philanthropist, and therefore would use it well.

May Farlow, on the other hand, grieved honestly for the canon, and
still retained sittings in the parish church, though she usually took
the children to the chapel-of-ease, "where is an old friend of ours,"
she said, "and I'm not going to turn my back on him. There are always
two sides to a question after all, and I want to hear both. Perhaps
we've been wrong in some things, Ida. At any rate, now that my children
are growing up, I want more than ever to be right, so that I can guide
them, and prevent them from making mistakes. Sometimes I think we were
too severe in the past."

* * * * *

Jimmy hardly noticed the canon passing him. His mind was too full of
other things. Vera was lost to him, he knew that, and, somehow, the fact
troubled him little. With her, also, he had lost all present chance of
going back to the Grierson world, of becoming a true and complete
Grierson again, and curiously enough, that troubled him equally little.
He had ceased to have the slightest desire for such a thing. A black
sheep himself, he preferred to herd with his kind.

His first feeling had been one of bitter wrath against his sisters. They
had betrayed him; they had thrust him back again when he was trying to
pull himself up; they were keeping him down, keeping him at a distance
for fear he should damage their position. And then his anger seemed to
pass away, and he laughed, first at them, then at himself. What did he
care about position, what did he care about Vera Farlow, what did he
care about anything--except Lalage?

He knew it now. He knew why his engagement had made him so utterly
miserable, knew why he had been unable to write that final letter to
Lalage. There was only one place in the world he wanted to be--where
Lalage was; only one object in life for him--to make Lalage happy, and
by so doing wipe out all memory of his intended unfaithfulness to her.

But would she have him back now, would she forgive his coldness and his
neglect, above all his repudiation of her in the London days? Did she
still love him, as he knew she had done once, love him enough to forgive
and forget, love him as he love