Oh, what shall I do ?" "What has happened ?" Henrietta writhed with impatience.

Then, forcing herself to tell her story, she answered: "We arranged on Monday that I should spend two days with Aunt Judith instead of going with him to Birmingham to that horrid Trade Congress.
We parted on the best of terms.

He couldn't have been more affectionate.
I will kill myself; I don't care about anything or anybody.

And when I came back on Wednesday he was gone, and there was this letter." She produced a letter, and wept more bitterly than before.
"Let me see it." Henrietta hesitated, but her mother took the letter from her, sat down near the window, and composed herself to read without the least regard to her daughter's vehement distress.

The letter ran thus: "Monday night.
"My Dearest: I am off--surfeited with endearment--to live my own life and do my own work.