To think that while she had been starving in that attic he had proceeded with his courtship, to reflect that in one of those terrible hours that she had passed through he must have been dressing himself for his wedding, wrung her heart. And now, while she stood here, he was calling the other woman "Olive," and kissing her. She gripped the bar with both hands, her breast heaved tumultuously; it seemed to her that her punishment was more than she had power to bear. Wasn't his sin worse than her own? she questioned; yet what price would he ever be called upon to pay for it? At most, perhaps, occasional discontent! Nobody would-blame him a bit; his offence was condoned already by a decent woman's hand. In the wife's eyes she, Mary, was of course an adventuress who had turned his weakness to account until the heroine appeared on the scene to reclaim him. How easy it was to be the heroine when one had a few thousand pounds to offer for a wedding-ring! She let the paper lie where it had fallen, and went to the library. In leaving it she met Kincaid on his way to the Lodge. He was rather glad of the meeting, the man to whom women had been only patients; he had felt once or twice of late that it was agreeable to talk to Miss Brettan. "Hallo," he said, in that voice of his that had so few inflexions; "what have you been doing? Going home?" "I've been to get a book for Mrs. Kincaid," she answered. "She was hoping you'd come round to-day." "I meant to come yesterday. Well, how are you getting on? Still satisfied with Westport? Not beginning to tire of it yet?" "I like it very much," she said, "naturally. It's a great change from my life three months ago; I shouldn't be very grateful if I weren't satisfied." "That's all right. Your coming was a good thing; my mother was saying the other evening it was a slice of luck." "Oh, I'm so glad! I have wanted to know whether I--did!" "You 'do' uncommonly; I haven't seen her so content for a long while. You don't look very bright; d'ye feel well?" "It's the heat," she said; "yes, I'm quite well, thank you; I have a headache this afternoon, that's all." She was wondering if her path and Carew's would ever cross again. How horrible if chance brought him to the theatre here and she came face to face with him in the High Street! "Hasn't my mother been out to-day herself? She ought to make the most of the fine weather." "I left her in the garden; I think she likes that better than taking walks." And it might happen so easily! she reflected. Why not _that_ company, among the many companies that came to Westport? She'd be frightened to leave the house. "I suppose when you first heard there was a garden you expected to see apple-trees and strawberry-beds, didn't you?" "Oh, I don't know. It's not a bad little garden. We had tea in it last night."