"Who knows, Aunt Juley, who knows?"

"But, Margaret dear, I mean we mustn't be unprac-
tical now that we've come to facts. It is too sudden,
surely."

"Who knows!"

"But Margaret dear --"

"I'll go for her other letters," said Margaret. "No, I
won't, I'll finish my breakfast. In fact, I haven't them.
We met the Wilcoxes on an awful expedition that we
made from Heidelberg to Speyer. Helen and I had got
it into our heads that there was a grand old cathedral
at Speyer -- the Archbishop of Speyer was one of the
seven electors -- you know -- 'Speyer, Maintz, and Köln.'
Those three sees once commanded the Rhine Valley
and got it the name of Priest Street."

"I still feel quite uneasy about this business, Mar-
garet."

"The train crossed by a bridge of boats, and at first
sight it looked quite fine. But oh, in five minutes we
had seen the whole thing. The cathedral had been
ruined, absolutely ruined, by restoration; not an inch
left of the original structure. We wasted a whole day,
and came across the Wilcoxes as we were eating our
sandwiches in the public gardens. They too, poor
things, had been taken in -- they were actually stopping
at Speyer -- and they rather liked Helen insisting that
they must fly with us to Heidelberg. As a matter of
fact, they did come on next day. We all took some
drives together. They knew us well enough to ask
Helen to come and see them -- at least, I was asked too,
but Tibby's illness prevented me, so last Monday she
went alone. That's all. You know as much as I do now.
It's a young man out the unknown. She was to have
come back Saturday, but put off till Monday, perhaps
on account of -- I don't know."

She broke off, and listened to the sounds of a Lon-
don morning. Their house was in Wickham Place,
and fairly quiet, for a lofty promontory of buildings
separated it from the main thoroughfare. One had the

-7-