He came in slowly as he had gone out, but she saw at once that his gloom was somehow relieved. And as he told her in studied accents of distress the story of the meeting, there came to her a sick certainty that he was acting. He was not really sorry that John had thought it best not to take any action; he was glad.

When he had finished, she said, in a hard voice which startled her, “What do you make of it, Stephen? Do you think he really did it?”

Stephen looked at the fire, the first fire of late September , and he said, “God knows, Margery; God knows. He’s a funny fellow, John.” He sighed heavily and stared into the fire.

And then she was quite sure.