like that. Dawn climbed up to
her; yes, and perhaps beyond her. Out there he didn't need to pretend to
hate her; he could afford to love her without loss of self-respect. I
suppose he thought it was too late to tell her after all that had gone
before."

"Either that," Maisie assented, "or else---- It would be like him. Or
else because he was too much of a sportsman. As it was, if he were
killed, she wouldn't need to be sorry. But if he wrote her that he loved
her and had always loved her, and then got killed---- Don't you see,
that's where her remorse would start?"

Tabs nodded. "And yet she was his last thought. She ought to know it.
It's monstrous that she should go on believing----" He broke off. And
then, "She must be told. It's merest justice--whatever it costs."

VIII

The light had been failing while they had talked. A tap fell on the
door. Coming at that moment when their nerves were jangled, it sounded
ominous. Their heads turned sharply. Maisie's voice was unsteady when
she asked, "What is it? What do you want?"

"It's Porter, Madam. Dinner is served."

"Oh, come in, Porter. Have you laid a place for Lord Taborley?"

As the maid entered, Tabs rose. "I had no idea---- Why, I've been here
for hours. I really must apologize, Mrs. Lockwood, and be going."

However much his reception had been prearranged, dinner had formed no
part of the program. The slightly puzzled expression on Maisie's
watch-dog's face betrayed that fact to him at a glance.

Maisie laid an arresting hand on his arm. To the maid she said
cheerfully, "It's all right, Porter; Lord Taborley is staying."

As Porter was making her exit, he commenced again to protest. Maisie
silenced his objections by leaning against him warningly. "You've talked
of everything except me," she whispered; "it was about me you came to
talk. You _must_ before we part."

Following her across the hall to the dining-room, he reflected on her
ability for getting him into deeper and yet deeper water. He had the
feeling that he was being led somewhere against his will--somewhere that
might be for his good or for his harm, but which would inevitably cut
him off from many of his old affections. He had the discomforting sense
that he was doing something disloyal to Terry. Heaven knew what promises
might not be exacted from him before the evening ended. When would it
end? He would have to stay for at least an hour after coffee--that would
bring him to nine o'clock.