CHAPTER XIX.
IN THE MEANTIME It was one Wednesday evening in early April, that Waymark found a letter awaiting him, addressed in a hand he at once recognised.
"Will you come and see me?
I am at home after eight o'clock till the end of the week, and all day on Sunday.
I.S." No distinct pleasure was aroused in Waymark as he read this.

As was always the case for hours after he had left Maud's presence, her face and voice lived with him to the exclusion of every other thought.

There was even something of repulsion in the feeling excited by his thus having the memory of Ida brought suddenly before him; her face came as an unwelcome intruder upon the calm, grave mood which always possessed him on these evenings.

In returning home each Wednesday night, Waymark always sought the speediest and quietest route, unwilling to be brought in contact with that life of the streets which at other times delighted him.

Ida's note seemed a summons from that world which, for the moment, he held at a distance.