was tired out I sat down and cried, to think that there would never be any Jesus any more to save poor girls. It seemed so empty and terrible, and I'd only been trying to be good such a short time. I went to evensong when I got back; the bell was tolling just as usual. And as I sat there I saw that it couldn't be true that Jesus was just a good man, and not God. I wondered at myself for doubting, seeing what He'd done for me. If the paper was right, then why was it I was so happy, happier than ever before in my life — although I am going to die soon? Why was it that I could go away and leave Bob and the old life? why was it that I could see Jesus in my walks, hear the wind praying — feel that everything was speaking of Him?' That was the gist of what she said, though there was much more. I wish I could tell you adequately of the deep conviction in her voice and eyes. One doesn't often see it, except in very old people. After this I began to speak of our suspicions as delicately as possible. It was horribly difficult. One was afraid of awakening old longings and recalling that man's influence. I was relieved to find that she took it very well indeed. Her feelings towards the man have undergone a complete change. She fears him, not because he has yet an influence over her, but with a hearty fear and horror of the life she was living with him. When I told her what we thought, she began at once by saying that from what she knew of Llwellyn he would not stop even at such wickedness as this. She said that he only cared for two things, and kept them quite distinct. When he is working he throws his whole heart into what he is doing, and he will let no obstacle stand in his way. He wants to constantly assure himself of his own pre-eminence in his work. He must be first at any cost When his work is over he dismisses it absolutely from his thoughts, and
