be best of all, if she could only be sure that the sea was still dividing them.

Five days after Nicholas was due to return Mrs. Ledley spoke of him. "He'll never come back, Faith." There was triumphant thankfulness in her voice. "Somehow I felt all along that he would never come back." Faith could not answer. Though her fear had decreased it was not yet dead, and only last night she had dreamed of the Beggar Man, dreamed that she was on one side of a locked door on which he knocked, knocked ceaselessly. It was early evening, and Faith had come home from work to find Mrs. Ledley dressed to go out. "You won't be long, mother, will you?" she urged. She dreaded being alone in the house. Though it was early evening, the twins were in bed and asleep, and everything seemed very still. "I shan't be long," her mother answered, "but I must have a breath of air. The house has stifled me all day. I can't breathe at all sometimes." Faith watched her down the street and went back indoors.

And Mrs. Ledley had not been gone more than half an hour, when there was a great knocking at the outer door. Shaking in every limb, Faith went to open it. A strange woman stood there, and down at the gate was a little crowd and a policeman. The strange woman put kind arms round the girl's shrinking figure and told her as gently as she could that something terrible had happened, but that she must try to be brave and---- "Mother!" said Faith. She broke away like a mad thing from the arms that would have held her and rushed to the gate. She gave one look at the white face of the woman they were carrying home and screamed, hiding her face with distraught hands. Mrs. Ledley was dead. She had been walking along quite naturally, so they said, and suddenly had been seen to fall. There was nothing to be done. Hard work and sorrow and bitterness had taken their toll of her strength and ended her life. Faith could not shed a tear. After that first wild scream she had been silent. She went to the room where the twins lay sleeping and crouched down beside them, desperately holding a chubby hand of each. 

Downstairs a kindly neighbour was in charge of the house; presently she came upstairs to Faith and bent over her. "A gentleman, dearie. I told him you couldn't see anyone, but he seemed so distressed. I promised to tell you. He says he must see you, and such a nice gentleman he is." Faith turned her face away. "I can't! I don't want anyone! Leave me alone!" The woman sighed and went away, and presently another step ascended the narrow stairs--a man's heavier step. Faith was crouched against the bed, facing the door, her eyes closed, her cheek pressed to 

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