She waited a long time, a little frown had gathered on her forehead. She seemed to be looking back earnestly into those past days.

“I think⁠—I am sure⁠—he cared for me at first. But I suppose we were not well matched. Almost at once, we drifted apart. He⁠—it is not a pleasing thing for my pride, but it is the truth⁠—tired of me very soon.” I must have made some murmur of dissent, for she went on quickly: “Oh, yes, he did! Not that it matters now⁠—now that we’ve come to the parting of the ways.”

“What do you mean?”

She answered quietly:

“I mean that I am not going to remain at Styles.”

“You and John are not going to live here?”

“John may live here, but I shall not.”

“You are going to leave him?”