'Mavis Argles and I are all in all to each other. We have made up our minds on account of certain _circumstances_ to throw in our lot together, and we are starting for Australia today. When this reaches you, we shall have started. I enclose the address to write to me. 'In taking this step I have, I am sure, acted for the best. It may cause you great surprise and pain. I regret it, but we met and became very quickly devoted to one another. She cannot live without me. What I am doing is my duty. I now ask you, and believe you will grant my request, to make arrangements to _give me my freedom as soon as possible_. Mind you do this, Edith, for it is really my duty to give my name to Mavis, who, as I have said, is devoted to me heart and soul, and cannot live without me. 'I shall always have the greatest regard and respect for you, and _wish you well_. 'I am sorry also about my mother, but you must try and explain that it is for the best. You also will know exactly what to do, and how to bring up the children just as well without me as with. 'Hoping this sudden news will not affect your health in any way, and that you will try and stay on a good while at Westgate, as I am sure the air is doing you good, believe me, yours affectionately as always, 'BRUCE. '_P.S._--Mind you don't forget to divorce me as soon as you can for Mavis's sake. Vincy will give you all the advice you need. Don't think badly of me; I have meant well. Try and cheer up. I am sorry not to write more fully, but you can imagine how I was rushed to catch today's steamer.' She sat alone gazing at the letter under the light. She was divided at first between a desire to laugh and cry. Bruce had actually eloped! His silly weakness had culminated, his vanity had been got hold of. Vincy's horrid little art-student had positively led him into running away, and leaving his wife and children. Controlling herself, Edith went to the veranda and said to Mrs Ottley that Bruce wasn't coming back for a day or two, that she had neuralgia and was going to retire, but begged Aylmer not to go yet. Of course at this he went at once. The next morning Aylmer at his hotel received a little note asking him to come round and see Edith, while the others were out. It was there, in the cool, shady room, that Edith showed him the letter. 'Good God!' he exclaimed, looking simply wild with joy. 'This is too marvellous!--too heavenly! Do you realise it? Edith, don't you see he wants you to make him free? You will be my wife--that's settled--that's fixed up.' He looked at her in delight almost too great for expression. Edith knew she was going to have a hard task now. She was pale, but looked completely composed. She said: 'You're wrong, Aylmer. I'm not going to set him free.' 'What?' he almost shouted. 'Are you mad? What! Stick to him when he doesn't want you! Ruin the wretched girl's life!' 'That remains to be seen. I don't believe everything in the letter. The children--'