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120 going on, so I went to Father Ripon, who was very nice, and he said you'd call."

"I quite understand you, Miss Hunt," said Gortre. "That's the beauty of faith. When once you believe, then you've got to change. It's a great pity, a very great pity, that clergymen don't attempt to explain things more than they do. If one isn't built in a cer-tain way, I can quite understand and sympathise with any one who isn't able to take a parson's mere statement on trust, so to speak. But that's beside the way. You believe at any rate. And now what are you going to do? I'm here to help you in every possible way. I want to hear your views, just as you have thought them out."

"I like that," she said. "That's practical and sensible. I've never cared very much for sentimental ways of looking at things. You know I can't live very long. I've got enough to live quietly on for some years, put away in a bank, money I've made acting. I haven't spent a penny of my salary for years — I've made the men pay for everything. I shall go quietly away to the country and be alone with my thoughts, close to a little quiet church. You'll find a place for me, won't you? That's what I want to do. But there's something in the way, and a big something, too."

"I'm here to help that," said Basil.

"It's Bob," she answered. "The man that keeps me. I'm afraid of him. He's been away for months, out of England, but he's coming back at once. Tomorrow as likely as not, he couldn't say to a day. I had a letter from Brindisi last week. He's been to Palestine, via Alexandria."

A quick premonition took hold of the young man. "Who is he?" he asked.

She took a photograph from the mantel-shelf and gave it to him. It was one of the Stereoscopic Company's