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 V

ANDROMEDA sat in the dusk at her window and looked out upon the street. The evening was long and warm, and the lamps were not yet lit. She saw the people hurrying by, going home, no doubt, and the thought stung:a little, for there was pain in it—perhaps also some envy. Now and again a motor dashed by, all going one way, to London—home! Here a shop-boy whistled loudly, inconsequently ; there a heavy vehicle lumbered heavily through the street. Just below her she could hear the preparations of a party of motorists who had stopped at the Swan for refreshments. It was the last lap on the homeward journey.

Well, she too was going on a journey, and at the thought thereof her eyes softened. She had thrashed it all out with Perseus, had of- fered him every loophole of escape. But this lover of hers had proved no lover of a summer day, and her heart was full of gratitude and deep affection.

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