IV
Milly had scarcely left the room to put on her things before she was back in it. And she returned in such a state of excitement that she could hardly speak. The cause of it, moreover, following hard upon her heels, was a wholly unexpected visitor.
"He was just coming in at the front door," Milly explained, as soon as the state of her emotions would allow her to do so. "I was never so taken aback in my life. Why, a feather would have downed me."
In that moment of drama it was not too much to say that a feather would have had an equal effect upon Mary. If human resolve stood for anything, and it stood for a good deal in the case of Jack Dinneford, he should have been on his way to Liverpool. At six o'clock the previous evening they had parted heroically, not expecting to see each other again. For seventeen hours or so, they had been steeling their wills miserably. About 2 a.m., the hour when ghosts walk and pixies dance the foxtrot, both had felt that, after all, they would not be strong enough to bear the self-inflicted blow. But day-*light had found them true to the faith that was in them. She had just enough fortitude not to telephone a change of mind, he was just man enough to decide not to miss the 10.5 from Euston.
Still, when the best has been said for it, the human will is but a trivial affair. Man is not much when the Fates begin to weave their magic web. A taxi was actually at the door of Jack's chambers, nay, his luggage had even been strapped into the front of the vehicle, when there came an urgent message by telephone from Brid-
