She was seeking indignantly to repel the conviction which was mastering her mind. Surely he would not, could not, do it like this? In her rare contemplation of their possible parting, as bargained for, there had always been not indeed argument, much less recrimination, but much friendly discussion, a calm survey of the situation, probably an agreement to 'try it again' for a longer or shorter time, till a mature and wise decision, satisfactory to the reason, if not to the feelings, of both, should be arrived at. But this would be sheer running away--literal running away from her, from the problem, from the situation. It could not be. There must be some explanation. Sounds were easily audible in the small flimsy dwelling. She heard the front door bell ring--and sat listening for his voice calling her, his step across the studio floor, and then coming up the stairs. Neither voice came, nor step; besides--odd she had not remembered it before--of course he would have used his latchkey. She got up, took off her jacket, unpinned her hat, laid it on the bed, looked to her hair, and then went slowly downstairs again. Amy Ledstone was standing in the middle of the studio; the knock had been hers. Then in an instant Winnie knew, and in an instant she put on her armour. Her tone was cool and her manner self-possessed; they need not both be cowards--she and Godfrey! "How do you do, Miss Ledstone? You've come to tell me something?" "Yes." Amy Ledstone was neither cool nor self-possessed. Her voice trembled violently; it was an evident effort for her not to break into sobbing. "He--he still loves you; he told me to tell you that." "Told you to tell me! Isn't that rather odd?--After all our--well, he's been able to tell me for himself before. Won't you sit down?" She sat herself as she spoke. "No, thank you. But he can't bear to see you; he can't trust himself. He told me to say that. He said you'd understand--that you had a--an understanding. Only he couldn't bear to say good-bye." "He's not coming back?" "He was really rather seedy on Sunday--so he stayed. And--and on Sunday night mother had a bad attack; we were really alarmed." Winnie nodded. Always, from the very beginning, a dangerous enemy--mother's weak heart! "Mother had been with him all day--she wouldn't leave him. I suppose she got over-tired, and there was the strain of--of the situation; and daddy--my father--broke out on Godfrey the next morning; and I'd broken out on him Christmas night." "You?" There was a touch of reproach in the question. "Yes, I told him he must choose. He really made love to Mabel all the time. So I told him----" "I see." She smiled faintly. "The poor boy can't have had a pleasant Christmas, Miss Ledstone!"