What was she doing? Running away from the best husband in the world, and the home of which she was so proud. Was she mad? or was she dreaming? She started to her feet in a sudden burst of comprehension. That instant her passion was gone; her vision was clear; she saw. And, from what she saw, she put up her hands to veil her eyes. To-morrow was Christmas Eve. Her mother and sister were coming, and some of Frank's relations'. There was to be a family gathering, to spend the first Christmas in the home of the newly-married couple. How she had looked forward to it, and prepared, and made all sorts of plans. But there were still many things to do, various arrangements to complete. There was not a minute to spare, she would be fully occupied up to the very moment of her guests' arrival. Instead of being busied with the multitudinous details which awaited her attention she was tearing up to town. Why? With what purpose in view? On what errand? She alone could tell; and she had not the remotest idea. She looked out of the window, wondering whereabouts she was. She would get out at the first station at which they stopped; if fortune favoured her, she might catch a train back at once; she would return before her flight had been discovered. How the train must have flown--it was Brentwood they were passing! Why did it fly through the station? She realised, with a shock, that it was the express which she had caught. That it did not stop till it reached town. What was she to do? She endeavoured to collect her thoughts! The train reached Liverpool Street about six. There was not another back till nine. What was she to do during the intervening three hours--at night, in London, all alone? Discovery was inevitable. She would have to make what explanation she could. She remembered Frank's words--that if she went he would not want her back again. Was it possible that he had meant what he had said? The horror of the thought. Something else occurred to her. She opened her purse to look for her ticket. It was there right enough--first, single, to Liverpool Street. Why had she taken single? She recalled, with a flush of shame, how, even at the booking-office window, she had told herself that the mere fact of her requiring a single ticket to London was sufficient proclamation to the world of what it was she meant to do. She must have been insane indeed! Well, the only thing that remained for her was to stultify herself as soon as she reached town, and to get another single ticket to take her back again. All at once a horrible fear assailed her. She shuddered as with cold. She looked at her purse. Then sank back again against the cushions, a picture of dismay. All the colour had gone from her cheeks, her hands trembled. Was it possible that she had been so mad as that? Such an utter fool? It was incredible. Ridiculous though her conduct had been, she could not have behaved with quite such blind insanity.