nsciousness. Could one look like that--even in sleep--and
underneath--! Barrington broke away from his train of thought, and woke
her quickly.

She sat up and yawned.

"Parsons managed to catch you, then," she remarked.

"Yes!" he answered. "I was just off. I got away from Wills' dinner
party early, and called here for some notes. I must be at the House"--he
glanced at the clock--"in three-quarters of an hour!"

She nodded. "I won't keep you as long as that."

Her eyes met his, a little furtively, full of inquiry. "I have done what
you wished," he said quietly. "I called at the Clarence Hotel!"

"You saw him!"

"No! He sent back my card. He declined to see me."

She showed no sign of disappointment. She sat up and looked into the
fire, smoothing her hair mechanically with her hands.

"Personally," Barrington continued, "I could see no object whatever in
my visit. I have nothing to say to him, nor, I should think, he to me. I
am sorry for him, of course, but he'd never believe me if I told him so.
What happened to him was partly my fault, and unless he's changed, he's
not likely to forget it."

She swayed a little towards him.

"It was partly--also--mine," she murmured.

"I don't see that at all," he objected. "You at any rate were
blameless!"

She looked up at him, and he was astonished to find how pale she was.

"I was not!" she said calmly.

There was a short silence. Barrington had the air of a man who has
received a shock.

"Ruth!" he exclaimed, glancing towards the door, and speaking almost
in a whisper. "Do you mean--that there are things which I have never
known?"

"Yes!" she answered. "I mean that he might, if he chose, do us now--both
of us--an immense amount of harm."

Barrington sat down at the end of the sofa. He knew his wife well enough
to understand that this was serious.

"Let us understand one another, Ruth," he said quietly. "I always
thought that you were a little severe on Wingrave at the trial! He may
bear you a grudge for that; it is very possible that he does. But what
can he do now? He had his chance to cross examine you, and he let it go
by."

"He has some letters of mine," Lady Ruth said slowly.

"Letters! Written before the trial?"

"Yes!"

"Why did he not make use of them there?"

"If he had," Lady Ruth said, with her eyes fixed upon the carpet, "the
sympathy would have been the other way. He would have got off with a
much lighter sentence, and you--would not