eeped enquiringly
round the corner of the door.

"You are alone?" she asked. "I hoped you would be. I couldn't rest,
and I knew you couldn't either. Do you mind if I sit down and talk a
few minutes?"

"Do, dear; I'd like it," Grizel said kindly, her eyes fixed on the
girl's figure, with an astonished admiration. Teresa had taken off her
dress, and put on a plainly made blue cashmere dressing-gown, the loose
folds of which disguised the somewhat ungainly lines of her figure, and
gave to it an effect of dignity and height. Her hair had been unloosed
and hung in two heavy plaits to her waist, giving a Gretchen-like
expression to the fair, blue-eyed face. Teresa had prepared herself for
her siesta with characteristic thoroughness, but apparently without
avail. She seated herself beside Grizel's couch, folded her hands on
her knee, and asked a level question:

"I wanted to know. Have you told your husband everything that
happened?"

"Everything about the accident itself. Nothing more, Teresa."

For a moment the blue eyes lightened with gratitude.

"I _thought_ you wouldn't. But most women would. Thank you. I'd
rather no one was told."

"No one shall hear anything from me. It is not my business. I shall
forget it, Teresa!"

The girl shook her head.

"You can't do that. I don't think I want you to forget. It's a help to
have someone who understands. Mrs Beverley--do you think he _meant_
it?"

Grizel sat upright on the sofa, her small hands locked on her knee, and
for a long silent minute blue eyes and hazel met in a steady gaze.
There were no secrets between the two women at the end of that minute.

"Yes, Teresa," said Grizel unsteadily. "I think he did."

"You know he did," corrected Teresa gravely. She was silent for another
moment, sitting motionless with downcast eyes, then deliberately raised
them again and continued:

"At the time he did mean it... She is so beautiful, and fascinating.
Everyone admires her. And it was terrible to watch her choking before
one's eyes. It wrung one's heart. What he said at the time should not
be counted. He was not sane. I am thinking of the time before.--Do
you,--do you think he meant it _before_?"

Grizel did not speak. To her impetuous ardent nature, the girl's
composure seemed terrible and unnatural. It affected her more strongly
than the most violent hysteria. She sat crunched up into the corner of
the sofa, looking white and scared, and h