Should she await Jack's return--face him out and demand an explanation? No, a thousand times no; there seemed degradation in receiving one. Her resolution was taken; she would leave now and for ever, and now with the coming night a long journey to London was to be faced--to London, where she would quickly be lost to all the world that knew her once. Jack would not be home (home!) for hours yet, but no time was to be lost, and action of any kind was grateful to her tortured spirit. She quickly dressed herself for travelling; reckoned over what was in her purse, and what was in her desk, and for more than an hour sat writing--writing endless and incoherent letters of farewell and upbraiding--letters which she tore in minute fragments by the score, as none of them seemed suitable to the awful occasion. At last she feverishly ended one; placed it in an envelope, addressed it--oh how tremulously!--and placed it on the toilet table, where he was sure to find it when she would be far away. 'I now know all--all about "Maggie!"' ran the letter. ('Who the devil is Maggie?' thought the terrified and bewildered Jack when he _did_ come, to peruse it.) 'You cannot forget that I once loved you--that I love you still, when--oh, my God!--I have no right to do so, nor can you forget the misery that obliges me to take this step and leave you. Oh, Jack! Jack! 'God forgive you, but you have broken my heart! 'When you read this, Jack, I shall be gone--gone to London or elsewhere--to where you shall never be able to follow or to trace me in my hiding place. 'The horrors of a public scandal must be avoided; but how, and however cautious our mode of action?' 'I shall never see you more--never from this evening; never again hope for a renewal of happiness; and yet with all your perfidy, Jack, your memory will always be most precious to me, and I only fear I shall always love you too well!' Much more in the same incoherent style followed. Time was short; she moved about noiselessly. She drew sharply off her bracelet and brooch, which were gifts of Jack's; she did more; she drew off her wedding ring with its keeper, her engagement ring also, and placed them in another envelope; she put a few necessary garments and toilet appurtenances into a travelling-bag, stole from the house, found a cab, and ordered the man to drive her at once to the railway station for London. It was night, now, and the silent suburbs had been left behind, and the cab, swift and well-horsed, and all unlike a London 'crawler,' bowled through the busy streets that were flooded with light. She was off--the die was cast! Nothing occurred to hinder or delay her, nor did she wish for any such thing at that time.