"Afterwards--afterwards!" said Gertrude, with visible temper. "I shall run down to Brighton tomorrow, and come back fresh on Monday." "To this flat?" "Oh no--I've found a lodging." Delia turned away--her breath fluttering. "So we part to-morrow!" Then suddenly she faced round on Gertrude. "But I don't go, Gertrude--till I have your promise!" "What promise?" "To let--Monk Lawrence _alone_!" said the girl with sudden intensity, and laying her uninjured hand on a table near, she stooped and looked Gertrude in the eyes. Gertrude broke into a laugh. "You little goose! Do you think I look the kind of person for nocturnal adventures?--a cripple--on a stick? Yes, I know you have been talking to Marion Andrews. She told me." "I warned _you_," said Delia, with determination--"which was more to the point. Everything Mr. Lathrop told me, I handed on to you." There was an instant's silence. Then Gertrude laid a skeleton hand upon the girl's hand--gripping it painfully. "And do you suppose--that anything Mr. Lathrop could say, or you could say, could prevent my carrying out plans that seemed to me necessary--in this war!" Delia gasped. "Gertrude!--you mean to do it!" Gertrude released her--almost threw her hand away. "I have told you why you are a fool to think so. But if you do think so, go and tell Mr. Winnington! Tell him everything!--make him enquire. I shall be in town--ready for the warrant." The two faced each other. "And now," said Gertrude--"though I am convalescent--we have had enough of this." She rose tottering--and felt for her stick. Delia gave it her. "Gertrude!" It was a bitter cry of crushed affection and wounded trust. It arrested Gertrude for a moment on her way to the door. She turned in indecision--then shook her head--muttered something inarticulate, and went. * * * * * That afternoon Delia sent a telegram to Lady Tonbridge who had returned to Maumsey--"Can you and Nora come and stay with me for three months. I shall be quite alone." She also despatched a note to Winnington's club, simply to say that she was going home tomorrow. She had no recent news of Winnington's whereabouts, but something told her that he was still in town--still near her. Then she turned with energy to practical affairs--arrangements for giving up the flat, dismissing some servants, despatching others to Maumsey. She had something of a gift for housekeeping, and on this evening of all others she blessed its tasks. When they met at dinner, Gertrude was perfectly placid and amiable. She went to bed early, and Delia spent the hours after dinner in packing, with her maid. In the middle of it came a line from Winnington--"Good news indeed! I go down to Maumsey early, to see that the Abbey is ready for you. Don't bother about the flat. I have spoken to the Agents. They will do everything. _Au revoir!"_