"Yes," she looked her aunt in the face without any confusion. How strangely her decision about Martin had altered her relationship now to every one! What did it matter whether any one were angry? "I ought to have told you, Aunt Elizabeth. I wrote about a fortnight ago to a lady who came once to see us at home. She was a Miss Trenchard then. She said that if ever I wanted any help I was to write to her. So I have written--to ask her whether she can find me any work to do, and she has asked me to go and see her." "Work," said Aunt Elizabeth. "But you won't go away while your aunt's so ill." Wouldn't she? Maggie didn't know so much about that. "I want to be independent," said Maggie, trying to fix Aunt Elizabeth's eyes. "It isn't fair that I should be a burden to you." "You're no burden, dear." Aunt Elizabeth looked uneasily round the room. "Your aunt depends on you." "Depends on me for what?" "For everything." "Then she oughtn't to, Aunt Elizabeth, I've said it again and again. I'm not fit for any one to depend on. I'm forgetful and careless and untidy. You know I am. And I'm different from every one here. I'm very grateful to Aunt Anne, but I'm not good enough for her to depend on." Aunt Elizabeth blinked nervously. "She's got very little. You mustn't take away all she has." "I'm not all she has," answered Maggie, knowing that she was becoming excited and cross. "I don't belong to any one except myself." "And Martin" her soul whispered. Then she added, suddenly moved by remorse as she looked at Aunt Elizabeth's meek and trembling face, "You're so good to me, both of you, and I'm so bad. I'll give you anything but my freedom." "You talk so strangely, dear," said Aunt Elizabeth. "But there are so many things I don't understand." Maggie took the letter up to her bedroom and there read it a number of times. It all seemed wonderful to her, the stamped blue address, the rich white square notepaper, and above all the beautiful handwriting. She thought of her own childish scrawl and blushed, she even sat down, there and then, at her dressing-table and, with a pencil, began to imitate some of the letters. On Friday! To-day was Tuesday. Bryanston Square. Wherever was Bryanston Square, and how would she find it? She determined to ask Caroline Smith. She had not long to wait for her opportunity. On Wednesday evening about half-past five Miss Smith poked her head into the Cardinal drawing-room to discover Maggie sitting with her hands on her lap looking down on to the street. "Are your aunts anywhere?" asked Caroline. "No," said Maggie. "Aunt Anne's in bed and Aunt Elizabeth's at Miss Pyncheon's." "That's right," said Caroline, "because I haven't seen you, darling, for ages." "The day before yesterday," said Maggie. "You're a literal pet," said Caroline kissing her. "I always exaggerate, of course, and it's so sweet of you to tell me about it." She rushed off to the fire and spread out her blue skirt and dangled her feet.