elled in
this new knowledge. It was not to be wondered at after all, he thought;
there was nothing astonishing in the girl's fidelity to any one who was
really acquainted with Harry Feversham, it was only an occasion of great
gladness. Durrance would have to get out of the way, of course, but then
he should never have crossed Harry Feversham's path. Sutch was cruel
with the perfect cruelty of which love alone is capable.

"You are very glad of that," said Durrance, quietly. "Very glad that
Ethne has not forgotten him. It is a little hard on me, perhaps, who
have not much left. It would have been less hard if two years ago you
had told me the whole truth, when I asked it of you that summer evening
in the courtyard of the club."

Compunction seized upon Lieutenant Sutch. The gentleness with which
Durrance had spoken, and the quiet accent of weariness in his voice,
brought home to him something of the cruelty of his great joy and pride.
After all, what Durrance said was true. If he had broken his word that
night at the club, if he had related Feversham's story, Durrance would
have been spared a great deal.

"I couldn't!" he exclaimed. "I promised Harry in the most solemn way
that I would tell no one until he came back himself. I was sorely
tempted to tell you, but I had given my word. Even if Harry never came
back, if I obtained sure knowledge that he was dead, even then I was
only to tell his father, and even his father not all that could be told
on his behalf."

He pushed back his chair and went to the window. "It is hot in here,"
he said. "Do you mind?" and without waiting for an answer he loosed the
catch and raised the sash. For some little while he stood by the open
window, silent, undecided. Durrance plainly did not know of the fourth
feather broken off from Ethne's fan, he had not heard the conversation
between himself and Feversham in the grill-room of the Criterion
Restaurant. There were certain words spoken by Harry upon that occasion
which it seemed fair Durrance should now hear. Compunction and pity bade
Sutch repeat them, his love of Harry Feversham enjoined him to hold his
tongue. He could plead again that Harry had forbidden him speech, but
the plea would be an excuse and nothing more. He knew very well that
were Harry present, Harry would repeat them, and Lieutenant Sutch knew
what harm silence had already done. He mastered his love in the end and
came back to the table.

"There is something which it