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of his success. The remarks concerning Waring gave her some food for thought. Was the help that he had extended to Holmes given by way of conscience money? Hardly that, for she recognized quite clearly that Waring was not the sort of man to be troubled by pangs of conscience with regard to anything that had happened between himself and Vera. Moral scruples did not bother him. Yet in his way, he was attached to Dick Holmes, and, it was clear, that he would do all in his power to help him. Human nature was an odd mixture! Very few people were actually pure white or jet black. A varying shade of gray was the normal hue of most men and women.

The autumn had definitely come, and still Vera made no sign.

In spite of the brave face Ann showed to the world, she dreaded more and more the prospect of being publicly pilloried in the Divorce Court. And the strain of the hard work entailed by her increasing business, the little hidden grief of heartache, and the consciousness of this sword of Damocles suspended above her head, all combined to wear her out. She was thinner, whiter, and more fragile than she had been formerly.

Life in the little town flowed on quite evenly. There was a nip of frost in the morning and evening air; or there were days of driving rain. The willows by the river were turning yellow. Golf had begun again, and hunting was commencing.

Rhoda Hemingway made an effort to induce Ann to accompany her to the big afternoon tea which she