About a week later, she went out as usual one morning and did not return till six o'clock. Miss Ward asked her where she had been. "Out into the country a long way, and they made me take them a long round. They were looking at houses. Most of my good fares are people house-hunting." "Did you have any lunch?" "Yes, we stopped at an inn." She said no more, but all the evening was strangely silent and preoccupied. The next morning she did not take her car out, but told Miss Ward she was going to practise in the church. She had found a lame boy who was always ready to blow for her, when her usual blower was at school. Mrs. Wharnecliffe appeared about twelve o'clock, and hearing the sound of the organ as she passed the church, stopped her car and went in. She could tell at once from Gentian's playing that all was not well with her. But she did not interrupt her, she took a back seat in the little church and waited. The music ceased at last. Gentian dismissed the lame boy; she had no idea that anyone was in the church but herself, and Mrs. Wharnecliffe felt a little uncomfortable when she saw her leave her organ stool and, slipping into one of the front seats, kneel down and bury her face in her hands. When Gentian rose at last, the church was empty; but she found Mrs. Wharnecliffe walking up and down the churchyard. They greeted each other affectionately; then Gentian turned rather eagerly to her. "Dear Mrs. Wharnecliffe. I think I'm going to make you happy. Certainly Cousin Thorold will be, but my future is very dark. I'm giving up my car. I shall never use it for the public, and I shan't be able to afford the oil for it, so I suppose I shall have to sell it." "Since when have you decided this, dear?" Mrs. Wharnecliffe asked gently. "Oh, I've lost all zest for it, for some days. And yesterday I said to myself 'never again.' I was driving four very common men about the country. And I didn't like them at all. And it isn't pleasant to be a girl sometimes, Mrs. Wharnecliffe. And I'd rather be a road-mender on the road, than everybody's and anybody's chauffeur." Mrs. Wharnecliffe was much astonished, but could not hide her approval, and Gentian's eyes were keen and far-seeing. "Ah!" she said, throwing out her hands in her foreign gesture of despair. "I shall have no sympathy from anyone. I must learn to go my way through life without it. You are pleased when I am sad—you are sad when I am pleased." "My dear child, I cannot help feeling pleased when you show such wisdom. I wish you would tell me a little more. I am afraid you have experienced some unpleasantness. It was what we feared would happen. But I am sorry, very sorry for you." "It is past." Gentian drew herself up to her full height. There was pride and a little aloofness in her voice. "I will not talk about it, Mrs. Wharnecliffe. But I am hardly happy to-day. I cannot be—I wish—" Here her tone became impassioned and vicious.