there was another letter from the follower of Mrs. Eddy:
Dear Dr. Kennedy:—
It is my duty to let you know that I have an appointment with James Capel's lawyer for Monday the 29th inst.
In desperation he wired back, "Name terms, Kennedy," and paid reply. There were a few patients he was bound to see. The time had to be got through somehow. But at twelve o'clock he started for Carbies. Margaret had not expected to see him again. She had said good-bye to him, to the whole incident. Her "consciousness of rectitude," as far as Peter Kennedy was concerned, was as complete as Mrs. Roope's. She had found him little better than a country yokel, and now saw him with a future before him, a future she still vaguely meant to forward—only vaguely. Definitely all her thoughts were with Gabriel and the hours they would pass together. She was meeting him at the station at three o'clock. She remembered the first time she had met him at Pineland station, and smiled at the remembrance. He might cut himself shaving with impunity now, and the shape of his hat or his coat mattered not one jot.
Not expecting Peter Kennedy, but Gabriel Stanton, she was already arrayed in one of her trousseau dresses, a simple walking-costume of blue