In spite of Adela’s unbroken reserve, he had seldom been other than cordial in his behaviour to her since the recommencement of his prosperity. His active life gave him no time to brood over suspicions, though his mind was not altogether free from them. He still occasionally came home at hours when he could not be expected, but Adela was always occupied either with housework or reading, and received him with the cold self-possession which came of her understanding his motives. Her life was lonely; since a visit they had received from Alfred at the past Christmas she had seen no friend. One day in spring Mutimer asked her if she did not wish to see Mrs. Westlake; she replied that she had no desire to, and he said nothing more. Stella did not write; she had ceased to do so since receiving a certain lengthy letter from Adela, in which the latter begged that their friendship might feed on silence for a while. When the summer came there were pressing invitations from Wanley, but Adela declined them. Alfred and his wife were going again to South Wales; was it impossible for Adela to join them? Letty wrote a letter full of affectionate pleading, but it was useless. In August, Mutimer proposed to take his wife for a week the Sussex coast. He wanted a brief rest himself, and he saw that Adela was yet more in need of change. She never complained of ill-health, but was weak and pale. With no inducement to leave the house, it was much if she had an hour’s open-air exercise in the week; often the mere exertion of rising and beginning the day was followed by a sick languor which compelled her to lie all the afternoon on the couch. She studied much, reading English and foreign books which required mental exertion. They were rot works relating to the ‘Social Question’--far other. The volumes she used to study were a burden and a loathing to her as often as her eyes fell upon them. In her letters from Wanley there was never a word of what was going on in the valley. Week after week she looked eagerly for some hint, yet was relieved when she found none. For it had become her habit to hand over to Mutimer every letter she received. He read them. Shortly after their return from the seaside, ‘Arry’s term of imprisonment came to an end. He went to his mother’s house, and Richard first saw him there. Punishment had had its usual effect; ‘Arry was obstinately taciturn, conscious of his degradation, inwardly at war with all his kind. ‘There’s only one thing I can do for you now,’ his brother said to him. ‘I’ll pay your passage to Australia. Then you must shift for yourself.’ ‘Arry refused the offer. ‘Give me the money instead,’ was his reply. Argument was vain; Richard and the old woman passed to entreaty, but with as little result. ‘Give me ten pounds and let me go about my business,’ ‘Arry exclaimed irritably. ‘I want no more from you, and you won’t get any good out o’ me by jawin’.’