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 "—Of course my husband has never entered into my inner life" and underlined the "of course" with short definite lines. It was quite true; she left books of poetry about and Harold never glanced at them; she sat for hours gazing at the fire or (as Charles said) out of the window and Harold never asked her what she was thinking about; when she was playing with the children she would break off suddenly and turn away her face and sigh, and Harold never asked her what was the matter. He would go away for days and leave her alone in the house with nobody to talk to but the children and the servants and the people next door. But of course solitude was her only escape and solace; she added this as a postscript.

Harold entered.

"I left this," he said, "down at the office this morning by mistake. I thought I had forgotten it in London—I should not like to have done so. I was very much worried. I did not mention the matter as I did not want you to be disappointed." He extended a parcel. "I don't know whether it is pretty, but I thought you might like it."