Looking about her in the anguish of conflicting thoughts, her eyes fell upon the pages she had written.

These now came before her as a proof of contagion which had seized upon her own nature; she tore the letter hastily into fragments, and, striking fire with a match, consumed them in the grate.

As she watched the sparks go out, there came a rustling of dresses past her door.

She flung herself upon her knees and sought refuge in wild, wordless prayer.
A fortnight after this Maud went late in the evening to the room where she knew her father was sitting alone.

Paul Enderby looked up from his papers in surprise; it was some time since Maud had sought private conversation with him.