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 She must have discussed it all, those evenings, with the Majendie that belonged to her; he had not understood either.

"I was mistaken, I suppose," he said. "I—I should have learnt later."

There was a slight contraction of her fingers, and Stuart knew that he had hurt her. If he hurt her like this a little more, it would probably be possible to kill her; she was very defenceless here in the garden that Majendie had bought her, looking out at the unmeaning lake. He had crowded out all tenderness for her, and her loneliness was nothing but a fact to him.

"There were messages for you," she said, turning her head again.

"Were there?"

"He said," her lips moved, she glanced at him a little apprehensively and was silent. "I have written down everything that he said for you. And I believe he left you a letter."

"Can you remember the messages?" he asked curiously.

"I wrote them down; I have them in the house." She looked at him again with