ached, ridden, for a long
time to come, the high horse of conscious superior virtue.

It did not seem odd to him that at the very moment of Rachel's
confession he should feel more sure of her than he had ever been before.
At last the Nita Raseley debt was paid off. At last he knew, beyond
question, that Rachel loved him. Best of all, perhaps, he had seen
Breton and felt his own superiority.

That being so, he wanted no words about the matter. He would like to lie
there on his sofa, with her hands enclosed in his and nothing said
between either of them--very pleasant and quiet there in the dusk. He
hoped that he would never again have to explain anything or speak to
anyone about his feelings--no, not even to Rachel.

Then he discovered that she was sobbing as she knelt there, and his face
crimsoned with confusion and alarm. Rachel, the proudest woman he had
ever known, kneeling to him, crying!

He tried to lift her, pressing her hands.

"Rachel dear ... Rachel."--Her words came between her sobs.

"I should have told you ... long ago ... I tried to--I did
indeed ... but it was because I was frightened ... because I ... Oh!
Roddy! you'll never trust me again!"

He was burning hot with the confusion of it: he was almost angry both
with himself and her.

"Please, Rachel ... please ... don't ... it's all over, dear. There's
nothing the matter."

"It's fine of you ... to take it like that ... But you'll never forgive
me, really, you can't--It isn't possible. This very afternoon ... I was
going to tell you--if all this ... hadn't happened. You'll be different
now--you must be ... just when I want you so much."

He glanced in despair about the room. He looked at the sporting prints
and the case of birds' eggs and at last at Rachel's photograph. How
proud and splendid she was there! This dreadful abasement!

He stroked her hair.

"See here, old girl--we've had a rotten afternoon, haven't we? Awfully
rotten--never remember to have spent a worse. All my fault, too--poor
old Duchess!... but look here, it's all right now. I understand
everythin' and--and--dash it all--do stop cryin', Rachel, old girl."

"It's been bad enough," she said, her voice steadier now, "the
way I've been to you all this time, but I thought--at least--I was
honest--I've tried--I've made a miserable failure--But, Roddy, you
need--never--never--be afraid of anything again--I'm yours altogether,
Roddy, to do anything with....

"All about Francis