“She had parted finally from Glynd in front of Miss Bassett’s cottage,” he said. “He told me that afterwards.” There was a moment’s silence. Then he spoke more calmly. “I went up to town when the child was safe, and had it out with Glynd. They had meant to go that night. It was the boy who stopped them and they took it as a judgment. You know how women are. Glynd swore she was stopped in time. You understand?” “Yes.” “He didn’t lie to me.” “And your wife?” “I never spoke of it to her. I saw her with the boy, and--well, I saw her with the boy, and what she was to him when he was close to death.” His voice went for a moment. Then he added: “I told her I’d had a presentiment Hugo was ill. She believed me, I think. If not, she’s kept her secret.” Just then the dining-room door opened, and Lady Inley put in her pretty head. “Are you never coming?” she said with her little childish drawl. I got up, and went towards her. “By the way, Nino,” she added, “the bell was for poor, funny old Miss Bassett. What will her cat do, I wonder?” As I followed her towards the drawing-room I heard Inley’s voice mutter behind me: “_Requiescat in Pace_.” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spinster, by Robert Hichens