the window,
absorbed in the interest of the moment. They both forgot that their
contemplated place of shelter from the rain had been the breakfast-room
upstairs.

"Before I answer your question," said Midwinter, a little constrainedly,
"I want to ask you something, Allan, on my side. Is it really true that
you are in some way concerned in Miss Gwilt's leaving Major Milroy's
service?"

There was another pause. The disturbance which had begun to appear in
Allan's manner palpably increased.

"It's rather a long story," he began. "I have been taken in, Midwinter.
I've been imposed on by a person, who--I can't help saying it--who
cheated me into promising what I oughtn't to have promised, and doing
what I had better not have done. It isn't breaking my promise to tell
you. I can trust in your discretion, can't I? You will never say a word,
will you?"

"Stop!" said Midwinter. "Don't trust me with any secrets which are not
your own. If you have given a promise, don't trifle with it, even in
speaking to such an intimate friend as I am." He laid his hand gently
and kindly on Allan's shoulder. "I can't help seeing that I have made
you a little uncomfortable," he went on. "I can't help seeing that my
question is not so easy a one to answer as I had hoped and supposed.
Shall we wait a little? Shall we go upstairs and breakfast first?"

Allan was far too earnestly bent on presenting his conduct to his friend
in the right aspect to heed Midwinter's suggestion. He spoke eagerly on
the instant, without moving from the window.

"My dear fellow, it's a perfectly easy question to answer. Only"--he
hesitated--"only it requires what I'm a bad hand at: it requires an
explanation."

"Do you mean," asked Midwinter, more seriously, but not less gently
than before, "that you must first justify yourself, and then answer my
question?"

"That's it!" said Allan, with an air of relief. "You're hit the right
nail on the head, just as usual."

Midwinter's face darkened for the first time. "I am sorry to hear it,"
he said, his voice sinking low, and his eyes dropping to the ground as
he spoke.

The rain was beginning to fall thickly. It swept across the garden,
straight on the closed windows, and pattered heavily against the glass.

"Sorry!" repeated Allan. "My dear fellow, you haven't heard the
particulars yet. Wait till I explain the thing first."

"You are a bad hand at explanations," said Midwinter, repeating Allan's
own words. "Don'