During the greater part of the week she did not go out of the Park, but left word with the sympathetic Margaret, who was perfectly aware that something out of the common was on foot, that in case of a telegram she was to be fetched from such and such a house. Then Maudie came gliding along in her motor brougham, full of sympathy, and, I must confess, at the same time, full of anxiety as to her mother's condition. "How is it you are coming to the Park every day now?" Mrs. Whittaker asked on the sixth morning when Maudie arrived about lunch time. "I was anxious about you, I thought you were not looking very well," Maudie remarked. "I am perfectly well." "Are you, dear? I fancied you were not quite yourself." Julia was safely out of the road, or perhaps young Mrs. Marksby would not have said so much. "I do wish, dear, you would get out of this depressing neighborhood. I assure you I feel quite a different woman since I was married and got away from this depressing place." "One generally does when one gets married," said Regina, with a slight smile. "Yes, I know, dear, but it takes a month of Sundays to get here even with a motor. I wish you would persuade daddy to come and live in the West End." "It is not at all unlikely that we may do so, dear, a little later on. Oh--what's that?" "That" was nothing more important than the knock of the postman. "I will go," said Maudie, and Maudie did go. "Two letters for Julia and four for you." "One from your father?" said Mrs. Whittaker, with an eagerness which, for the life of her, she could not suppress. "Nothing in daddy's handwriting," said Maudie. "Mother dear, have you heard from daddy since he left home?" "Oh yes, darling." "Every day?" "Not every day," said Regina, "no, not every day." "Before I was married," said Maudie in her most severe tone, "on the few occasions when daddy went away without you, he made a rule of writing every day." "He's on business," said Regina, feebly. "Yes, darling, but he was on business then. You _have_ heard from him?" "I have," said Regina. "Oh, mother--I may as well tell you what's in my mind." "I think you had better not," said Regina faintly. "I'm sure I ought to do so. I can't bear to go on deceiving you any longer." "Deceiving me?" said Regina. Her tone was feeble but questioning. "Yes, deceiving you," cried Maudie. "Daddy--daddy's not gone away in an ordinary manner on business--oh yes, he calls it business, but he's gone away with that woman." "Maud!" "Harry saw them go away together, and you are watching for letters that never come--my poor, crushed darling," Maudie cried. "Harry saw them go? Them? You mean that person, that creature we saw dining with daddy at the Trocadero?" Then Maudie burst forth with the entire story as she had told it to Julia.