ne it. I'd rather not. I should certainly not
be calm. I'm an impetuous person who is bound to let off steam, and
there would be a considerable amount of steam on that occasion, but I'm
older than you, and have seen more of the world, so that perhaps it
would come easier--after the first explosion--to be sorry for them as
well as myself."

"Why should one be sorry?"

"Because they _are_ in the wrong, and are bringing sorrow on others,
whereas you are the injured martyr, who is sinned against. There's
considerable balm in the position--for those who like it. How do you
suppose poor Dane will feel at the prospect of his next interview with
you?"

Teresa's face quivered again.

"He hasn't wanted many interviews lately. We've hardly been alone an
hour since we came here. I suppose I--should have suspected... but I
didn't. He has never been demonstrative, but he chose me, he said he
loved me. I _trusted_ him."

There was pathos in the lingering on those last words. Grizel made a
little crooning sound of tenderness, and stretched out a consoling hand,
but Teresa ignored it, and rose slowly to her feet.

"Thank you. You've told me all I wanted to know. And I'm grateful to
you for not telling your husband. Please don't mention anything to a
single person. The less that is said about it the easier it will be
to--"

"To--?" Grizel's eyes dilated. She sat upright on the sofa, her whole
body a-quiver with eagerness. "To _what_, Teresa?"

"To put things right," said Teresa, and marched stolidly from the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

BETWEEN TWO WOMEN.

It was late on the following morning when Teresa, sitting over her
embroidery in the garden, saw Dane Peignton making his way towards her
across the lawn. It was his first appearance since the return from the
fateful picnic, and Teresa, looking at him, marvelled at the change
which twenty-four hours had wrought. She herself had suffered from
shock and disillusionment, yet the mirror had shown no change, the fresh
pink colour had not faded from her cheeks, her eyes were clear and blue.
The first realisation of the truth of Grizel's words came to her at the
sight of Dane's lined face. At the glance of his wan eyes, the forced
smile faded from her lips. A shiver of dread passed through her at the
realisation that there was to be no covering up of the ugly truth. The
grim determination of Peignton's mien showed that he was braced for the
ordeal of