1.

　　In the lives of each one of us, as we look back and review them inretrospect, there are certain desert wastes from which memory winceslike some tired traveller faced with a dreary stretch of road. Evenfrom the security of later happiness we cannot contemplate themwithout a shudder. Time robs our sorrows of their sharp vividness,but the horror of those blank, gray days never wholly passes. Itremains for ever at the back of our consciousness to remind us that,though we may have struggled through it to the heights, there is anabyss. We may dwell, like the Pilgrim, on the Delectable Mountains,but we never forget the Slough of Despond. Years afterwards, Jillcould not bring herself to think of that brief but age-long periodwhich lay between the evening when she read Derek's letter and themorning when, with the wet sea-wind in her face and the cry of thewheeling sea-gulls in her ears, she stood on the deck of the linerthat was taking her to the land where she could begin a new life. Itbrooded behind her like a great, dank cloud, shutting out thesunshine.

　　The conditions of modern life are singularly inimical to swift anddramatic action when we wish to escape from surroundings that havebecome intolerable. In the old days, your hero would leap on hischarger and ride out into the sunset. Now, he is compelled to remainfor a week or so to settle his affairs,--especially if he is an UncleChris--and has got those affairs into such a tangle that hardenedlawyers knit their brows at the sight of them. It took one of themost competent firms in the metropolis four days to produce some sortof order in the confusion resulting from Major Selby's financialoperations; and during those days Jill existed in a state of beingwhich could be defined as living only in that she breathed and ateand comported herself outwardly like a girl and not a ghost.

　　Boards announcing that the house was for sale appeared against therailings through which Jane the parlormaid conducted her dailyconversations with the tradesmen. Strangers roamed the rooms eyeingand appraising the furniture. Uncle Chris, on whom disaster had had aquickening and vivifying effect, was everywhere at once, animpressive figure of energy. One may be wronging Uncle Chris, but tothe eye of the casual observer he seemed in these days of trial to behaving the time of his life.

　　Jill varied the monotony of sitting in her room--which was the onlyplace in the house where one might be sure of not encountering afurniture-broker's man with a note-book and pencil--by taking longwalks. She avoided as far as possible the small area which had oncemade up the whole of London for her, but even so she was not alwayssuccessful in escaping from old acquaintances. Once, cutting throughLennox Gardens on her way to that vast, desolate King's Road whichstretches its length out into regions unknown to those whose Londonis the West End, she happened upon Freddie Rooke, who had been payinga call in his best hat and a pair of white spats which would have cuthis friend Henry to the quick. It was not an enjoyable meeting.