houses, like to that in which she lived; the steps, the
door-columns, the tall narrow windows; above them, murky vapour.

She moved towards the door, hesitated, looked about her with
unconsciously appealing eyes. She moved forward again, and on to her
purpose.

"Well?" said the Doctor, who stood before a table covered with
scientific apparatus. "Is it about Olga?"

"No, dear father. It's about Irene."

He smiled; his face softened to tenderness.

"And what about Mam'zelle Wren? It's hard on Wren, all this worry at
such a time."

"If it didn't sound so selfish, I should say it had all happened for my
good. I suppose we can't help seeing the world from our own little
point of view."

"What follows on this philosophy?"

"Something you won't like to hear, I know; but I beg you to be patient
with me. When were you not? I never had such need of your patience and
forbearance as now--Father, I cannot marry Arnold Jacks. And I have
told him that I can't."

The Doctor very quietly laid down a microscopic slide. His forehead
grew wrinkled; his lips came sharply together; he gazed for a moment at
an open volume on a high desk at his side, then said composedly:

"This is your affair, Irene. All I can do is to advise you to be sure
of your own mind."

"I _am_ sure of it--very sure of it!"

Her voice trembled a little; her hand, resting upon the table, much
more.

"You say you have told Jacks?"

"I posted a letter to him this morning."

"With the first announcement of your change of mind?--How do you
suppose he will reply?"

"I can't feel sure."

There was silence. The Doctor took up a piece of paper, and began
folding and re-folding it, the while he meditated.

"You know, of course," he said at length, "what the world thinks of
this sort of behaviour?"

"I know what the world is likely to _say_ about it. Unfortunately, the
world seldom thinks at all."

"Granted. And we may also assume that no explanation offered by you or
Jacks will affect the natural course of gossip. Still, you would wish
to justify yourself in the eyes of your friends."

"What I wish before all, of course, is to save Mr. Jacks from any risk
of blame. It must be understood that I, and I alone, am responsible for
what happens."

"Stick to your philosophy," said her father. "Recognise the fact that
you cannot save him from gossip and scandal--that people will credit as
much or as little as they like of any explanation put forth. Moreov