Up to the time of leaving London I had been content whenever she was present.

I had over me that delicious sense of security which comes with the consciousness that love is mutual.

But now doubt had taken its place.

I never knew whether the personality present was my Margaret--the old Margaret whom I had loved at the first glance--or the other new Margaret, whom I hardly understood, and whose intellectual aloofness made an impalpable barrier between us.

Sometimes she would become, as it were, awake all at once.