of the way."

"Are you sure you read him aright?"

"Very sure."

"It was natural--in Arnold Jacks."

"It was. I had not understood that before."

"His relief may have been as much on your account as his own."

"I can't feel that," replied Irene. "If it were true, he could have
made me feel it. There would have been something--if only a word--in
the letter he wrote me about the death. I didn't expect him to talk to
me about the hateful things that were going on; I _did_ hope that he
would give me some assurance of his indifference to their effect on
people's minds. Yet no; that is not quite true. Even then, I had got
past hoping it. Already I understood him too well."

"Strange! All this new light came after your engagement?"

Irene bent her head again, for her cheeks were warm. In a flash of
intellect, she wondered that a man so deep in the science of life
should be so at a loss before elementary facts of emotional experience.
She could only answer by saying nothing.

Dr. Derwent murmured his next words.

"I, too, have a share in the blame of all this."

"You, father?"

"I knew the man better than you did or could. I shirked a difficult
duty. But one reason why I did so, was that I felt in doubt as to your
mind. The fact that you were my daughter did not alter the fact that
you were a woman, and I could not have any assurance that I understood
you. If there had been a question of his life, his intellectual powers,
his views--I would have said freely just what I thought. But there was
no need; no objection rose on that score; you saw the man, from that
point of view, much as I did--only with a little more sympathy. In
other respects, I trusted to what we call women's instinct, women's
perceptiveness. To me, he did not seem your natural mate; but then I
saw with man's eyes; I was afraid of meddling obtusely."

"Don't reproach yourself, father. The knowledge I have gained could
only have come to me in one way."

"Of course he will turn to me, in appeal against you."

"If so, it will be one more proof how rightly I am acting."

The Doctor smiled, all but laughed.

"Considering how very decent a fellow he is, your mood seems severe,
Irene. Well, you have made up your mind. It's an affair of no small
gravity, and we must get through it as best we can. I have no doubt
whatever it's worse for you than for anyone else concerned."

"It is so bad for me, father, that, when I have gone through it, I
shall be