XI + 

The study was dark when she passed, but she could see the rector’s head in dim silhouette against the more spacious darkness outside the window. She passed slowly onto the veranda. Leaning her quiet tall body against a column in the darkness beyond the fan of light from the door she listened to the hushed myriad life of night things, to the slow voices of people passing unseen along an unseen street, watching the hurried staring twin eyes of motorcars like restless insects. A car slowing, drew up to the corner, and after a while a dark figure came along the pale gravel of the path, hurried yet diffident. It paused and screamed delicately in midpath, then it sped on toward the steps, where it stopped again and Mrs. Powers stepped forward from beside her post. + 

“Oh,” gasped Miss Cecily Saunders, starting, lifting her hand slimly against her dark dress. “Mrs. Powers?” + 

“Yes. Come in, won’t you?” + 

Cecily ran with nervous grace up the steps. “It was a f-frog,” she explained between her quick respirations. “I nearly stepped⁠—ugh!” She shuddered, a slim muted flame hushed darkly in dark clothing. “Is Uncle Joe here? May I⁠—” her voice died away diffidently. + 

“He is in the study,” Mrs. Powers answered. What has happened to her? she thought. Cecily stood so that the light from the hall fell full on her. There was in her face a thin nervous despair, a hopeless recklessness, and she stared at the other woman’s shadowed face for a long moment. Then she said Thank you, thank you, suddenly, hysterically, and ran quickly into the house. Mrs. Powers looked after her, then following, saw her dark dress. She is going away, Mrs. Powers thought, with conviction. + 

Cecily flew on ahead like a slim dark bird, into the unlighted study. “Uncle Joe?” she said, poised, touching either side of the doorframe. The rector’s chair creaked suddenly. + 

“Eh?” he said, and the girl sailed across the room like a bat, dark in the darkness, sinking at his feet, clutching his knees. He tried to raise her but she clung to his legs the tighter, burrowing her head into his lap. + 

“Uncle Joe, forgive me, forgive me!” + 

“Yes, yes. I knew you would come to us. I told them⁠—” + 

“No, no. I⁠—I⁠—You have always been so good, so sweet to me, that I couldn’t.⁠ ⁠…” She clutched him again fiercely. + 

“Cecily, what is it? Now, now, you mustn’t cry about it. Come now, what is it?” Knowing a sharp premonition he raised her face, trying to see it. But it was only a formless soft blur warmly in his hands. + 

“Say you forgive me first, dear Uncle Joe. Won’t you? Say it, say it. If you won’t forgive me, I don’t know what’ll become of me.” His hands slipping downward felt her delicate tense shoulders and he said: + 

“Of course, I forgive you.” + 

“Thank you. Oh, thank you. You are so kind⁠—” she caught his hand, holding it against her mouth. + 

“What is it, Cecily?” he asked, quietly, trying to soothe her. + 

She raised her head. “I am going away.” + 

“Then you aren’t going to marry Donald?” + 

She lowered her head to his knees again, clutching his hand in her long nervous fingers, holding it against her face. “I cannot, I cannot. I am a⁠—I am not a good woman any more, dear Uncle Joe. Forgive me, forgive me.⁠ ⁠…” + 

He withdrew his hand and she let herself be raised to her feet, feeling his arms, his huge kind body. “There, there,” patting her back with his gentle heavy hand. “Don’t cry.” + 

“I must go,” she said at last, moving slimly and darkly against his bulk. He released her. She clutched his hand again sharply, letting it go. “Goodbye,” she whispered, and fled swift and dark as a bird, gracefully to a delicate tapping of heels, as she had come. + 

She passed Mrs. Powers on the porch without seeing her and sped down the steps. The other woman watched her slim dark figure until it disappeared⁠ ⁠… after an interval the car that had stopped at the corner of the garden flashed on its lights and drove away.⁠ ⁠… + 

Mrs. Powers, pressing the light switch, entered the study. The rector stared at her as she approached the desk, quiet and hopeless. + 

“Cecily has broken the engagement, Margaret. So the wedding is off.” + 

“Nonsense,” she told him sharply, touching him with her firm hand. “I’m going to marry him myself. I intended to all the time. Didn’t you suspect?” + 