this moment public affairs and the news of the day did
not interest her at all. She was concentrated on woman's business.
Into her hands she had taken a tangled love skein. And she was almost
frightened at what she had ventured to do. Could she hope to be of any
use, of any help, in getting it into order? Was there any chance for the
man she had last seen in Stamboul near Santa Sophia? She almost dreaded
Rosamund Leith's arrival. She felt nervous, strung up. The roar of the
wind added to her uneasiness. It suggested turmoil, driven things, the
angry passions of nature. Beyond the Mersey the sea was raging. She had
a stupid feeling that nature and man were always in a ferment, that it
was utterly useless to wish for peace, or to try to bring about peace,
that destinies could only be worked out to their appointed ends in
darkness and in fury. She even forgot her own years of happiness for a
little while and saw herself as a woman always anxious, doubtful, and
envisaging untoward things. When a knock came on the door she started
and got up quickly from her chair. Her heart was beating fast. How
ridiculous!

"Come in!" she said.

A waiter opened the door and showed in Rosamund

CHAPTER XI

Lady Ingleton looked swiftly at the woman coming in at the doorway clad
in the severe, voluminous, black gown and cloak, and black and white
headgear, which marked out the members of the Sisterhood of St. Mary's.
Her first thought was "What a cold face!" It was succeeded immediately
by the thought, "But beautiful even in its coldness." She met Rosamund
near the door, took her hand, and said:

"I am glad you were able to come. I wanted very much to meet you. I
came here really with the faint hope of seeing you. Let me take your
umbrella. What a day it is! Did you walk?"

"I came most of the way by tram. Thank you," said Rosamund, in a
contralto voice which sounded inflexible.

Lady Ingleton went to "stand" the umbrella in a corner. In doing
this she turned away from her visitor for a moment. She felt more
embarrassed, more "at a loss" than she had ever felt before; she even
felt guilty, though she had done no wrong and was anxious only to do
right. Her sense of guilt, she believed, was caused by the fact that
in her heart she condemned her visitor, and by the additional, more
unpleasant fact that she knew Rosamund was aware of her condemnation.

"It's hateful--so much knowledge between two women who are strangers to
each oth