his father and
staying at home. Secretly she had longed to go with her "men-folk" upon
the great expedition, to be present at Robin's initiation into the Doric
life. But something very dear in Dion had prompted her to be unselfish.
Dion was certainly much more impressive to her since his return from
the war. Even the dear things in him meant more. There seemed to be more
muscle in them than there had been when he went away.

"Even our virtues can be weak or strong, I suppose," Rosamund thought,
as she turned into the walled garden which she loved so much, and there
followed the thought:

"I wonder which mine are."

She meant to spend that day in saying good-by to Welsley. Dion had said
they would talk things over again that night; probably he would be ready
to fall in with any desire of hers, but she felt almost sure that she
would not tell him how much she wished to stay on at Little Cloisters.

An obscure feeling had come to her that perhaps it was not quite safe
for her to remain any longer here in the arms of the Precincts. Looking
backward to that which has been deliberately renounced is surely an act
of weakness.

Even the imaginative effort to live a life that has been put aside is a
feeble concession to an inclination at least partially morbid. Rosamund
was in fact a mother, and yet here in Welsley, she had, as it were,
sometimes played at being one of those "Sisters" who are content to
be brides of heaven and mothers of the poor. For her own sake it was
doubtless best to renounce Welsley at once. The new meaning of Dion
would help her to do that bravely. He had often been unselfish for her;
she would try to counter his unselfishness with hers.

When she was in the house again she had a colloquy with the cook
about the dinner for that evening. As Esme Darlington had given up an
engagement in London to come to Little Cloisters, her dinner must
be something special. She told the cook so in her cordial, almost
confidential, way, and they "put their heads together" and devised a
menu full of attractions. That done she had the day to herself. Dion
and Robin would come home some time in the afternoon, and they were all
going to have tea together up in the nursery. It might be at half-past
four, it might be at half-past five. Till then she was free.

For a moment she thought of going to see some of her friends, of telling
Mrs. Dickinson and other adherents of hers that her days in Welsley were
numbered. But a r