'The train leaves in five-and-twenty minutes. May I disturb uncle, do you think?'
'Ah, now I understand why you asked if he would be at home through the morning. I'll go and fetch him.'
She went quickly to the library. Mr. Baxendale sat there alone.
'Beatrice is going,' she said, coming behind his chair. 'Will you come and say good-bye?'
Mr. Baxendale jumped up.
'Going? Leaving?'
His wife nodded.
'Why? What is it? You haven't quarrelled with her about the prayer-meetings?'
'No. It's a fancy of hers, that's all. Come along; she's only twenty minutes to catch the train.'
When they reached the drawing-room, Beatrice was not there. Upon Mrs. Baxendale's withdrawal she had gone to Wilfrid's door and knocked at it. Wilfrid was pacing about in thought. It surprised him to see who his visitor was; yet more, when she advanced to him with her hand extended, saying a simple 'Good-bye.'