“Told her!” cried his aunt. “And do you really suppose that Katherine would stay for one moment with a man whose life—My dear Henry, how little you know your sister. She certainly has changed lately under that dreadful man’s influence, but she’s not changed so fundamentally as to forget all principles of right and wrong, all delicate feeling.” “I don’t know,” said Henry slowly, “I don’t believe we do know Katie a bit. Girls are so queer. You think they don’t know a thing about anything, and really they know more than you do.... Anyway,” he went on eagerly, “you mustn’t say a word. You mustn’t really. You must give me your promise.” But before Aunt Aggie could do more than shake her head there was an interruption. The door opened and Philip entered. Aunt Aggie at once rose from her chair, and, with a rustle and a quiver, without looking at the young man, without speaking left the room. Henry remained, staring at Philip, confused and bewildered, furious with himself, furious with Aunt Aggie, furious with Philip. Yes, now he had ruined Katherine’s life—he and Philip between them. That he should not consider it possible that Katherine should have her life in her own hands to make or mar was characteristic of the Trenchard point of view. Philip, conscious of Aunt Aggie’s exit, said: “I was just going—I came back to fetch a book that I left here—one that Katherine lent me.” Henry made his usual lurching movement, as though he would like to move across the room and behave naturally, but was afraid to trust himself. “That it?” he asked, pointing gloomily to a novel on the table near him. “That’s it,” said Philip. “Hullo!” cried Henry, looking at it more closely. “That’s mine!” It was indeed the novel that had to do with forests and the sea and the liberty of the human soul, the novel that had been to Henry the first true gospel of his life and that had bred in him all the troubles, distrusts and fears that a true gospel is sure to breed. Henry, when the original book had been delivered back to Mudie’s had with ceremony and worship bought a copy for himself. This was his copy. “It’s my book,” Henry repeated, picking it up and holding it defiantly. “I’m very sorry,” said Philip stiffly. “Of course I didn’t know. Katherine spoke as though it were hers.” “Oh, you can take it,” Henry said, frowning and throwing it back on the table.