He appeared preoccupied; his talk, when he spoke with her, was of a more general kind than formerly; she was conscious that her presence did not affect him as it had done.

She sank again into despondency; books were insipid, and society irritated her.

She began the habit of taking long walks, an aimless wandering about the streets and parks within her reach.

One evening, wending wearily homewards, she was attracted by the lights in a church in Marylebone Road, and, partly for a few minutes' rest, partly out of a sudden attraction to a religious service, she entered.

It was the church of Our Lady of the Rosary.