Mrs.Lessways had journeyed twice over the Hillport ridge to Oldcastle, in the odd quest of a book called _Maud_ by "Tennyson--the poet laureate"; the book had had to be sent from London; and on her second excursion to Oldcastle Mrs.Lessways had been caught by the rain in the middle of Hillport Marsh.

No! Hilda could not easily demand the gift of another book, when all sorts of nice, really useful presents could be bought in the High Street.

Nor was there in Turnhill a Municipal Library, nor any public lending-library.
Yet possibly Hilda's terrific egoism might have got fresh books somehow from somewhere, had she really believed in the virtue of books.

Thus far, however, books had not furnished her with what she wanted, and her faith in their promise was insecure.
Books failing, might she not have escaped into some vocation?
The sole vocation conceivable for her was that of teaching, and she knew, without having tried it, that she abhorred teaching.

Further, there was no economical reason why she should work.