Poor Robert! But he had been very disappointing. In him she had not found the satisfaction of those higher intellectual and spiritual needs for which chiefly, of course, she had joined her life--for a certain time--with his. In brooding over this regrettable fact, Philippa honestly lost sight, for the moment, of any tangible advantage which her friendship with him continued to involve. Her impulse was to sever the connection at once. Then the memory of pressing money difficulties brought her back with a shock to actualities, and the realization that with however generous a sum coming in every quarter, it would take many months of plain living and rigorous saving to free herself--for Nigel. There was nothing for it, then. She must stifle aspirations, quiet the beating of her wings, and continue to draw her salary. She sighed. Robert was becoming very trying. His fortnight’s holiday had been a great relief to her. It had enabled her, for one thing, to see a great deal of Nigel, and thus to strengthen and confirm her new attitude towards “life at its worthiest,” as she now expressed her emotions concerning her future union with the poet. This was the first morning after Robert’s return; it was in obedience to a note received from him the preceding evening that she was now on her way to Westminster to resume duties and to assume emotions which had become alike distasteful. She wondered why she had ever thought Robert charming. He bored her terribly now. She did not know which bored her most, his fits of gloomy depression about his work, or his increasingly rare fits of devotion to herself. That she welcomed even while she dreaded, the knowledge that Robert’s passion for her was decreasing, was a significant measure of her boredom. His infatuation was passing; and she rejoiced, for this would make the break with him easier. But it must not go too soon--not till, well--not till she was free--for Nigel.