Hagar, at the window, in the green and shimmering light like the bottom of the sea, leaned her forehead against the sash and looked across into the leafy gardens. Children were there, playing and calling. A young girl passed, carrying smart bandboxes; then an old woman, stooping, using a cane, with her a great dog and a young woman in the dress of a nurse. The soft rumble and crying of the city droned in together with a bee that made for the nearest flower. Hagar turned. "I will go with you for another year, father, but after that, I will go home." "No end of things," said Medway, "can happen in a year. I never cross a bridge that's three hundred and sixty-five days away.--I'd advise you, if you haven't already done so, to read Humboldt." He had a luncheon engagement, and at twelve vanished, Thomson and Mahomet in attendance. This drawing-room, his large chamber and bath, an adjoining room with its own entrance for Thomson, quarters somewhere for Mahomet, were his; he paid for them. Hagar had two rooms, her bedroom, and a much smaller drawing-room. They were hers; she paid for them. After the first two years she had assumed utterly her own support. Medway had shrugged. "As you choose--" Now, in her own rooms, she wrote through the early afternoon, then, rising, weighted the sheets of manuscript with a jade Buddha, put on a street dress, and went out into the divine, mild May weather. She knew people in London; she had acquaintances, engagements; but to-day was free. She walked a long way, the air was so sweet, and at last she found herself before Westminster Abbey. After a moment's hesitation she went in. The great, crowded place was empty, almost, of the living; a few tourist figures flitted vaguely. She moved slowly, over the dust of the dead, between the dull, encumbering marbles, until she reached a corner that she liked. Sitting here, her head a little thrown back against the stone, her soul opened the gates of Quiet. Rose and purple light sifted down from the great windows; all about was the dim thought of dead kings and queens, soldiers, poets, men of the state. In the organ loft some one touched the organ keys. A few chords were sounded, then the vibration ceased.