o be trusted. Well, you have
doubtless heard that I left my wife because I could not bring myself to
acquit her of the charge brought against her. I don't know how much you
may have learned, but I give you my word the evidence against her
was--or appeared to be--overwhelming."

"So I have heard." Anstice's tone was strictly non-committal, and after
a glance at his impassive face Carstairs went on speaking.

"You must forgive me for reminding you that Mrs. Carstairs never
categorically denied the charges made. That is to say, she implied that
any such denial was, or should be, unnecessary; and it seemed as though
her pride forbade her realizing how unsatisfactory her silence was--to
others."

"Forgive me, Major Carstairs." Anstice took advantage of a momentary
pause. "May I not just suggest that a categorical denial was
unnecessary? Surely to anyone who knew her, Mrs. Carstairs' silence must
have been sufficient refutation of the charge?"

He was almost sorry for his impulsive words when he noted their effect.
Major Carstairs' naturally florid complexion turned grey; and his whole
face grew suddenly aged. In that moment Anstice felt that his speech,
with its implied rebuke, had been both impertinent and unjust; yet he
hardly knew how to repair his error without committing still another
breach of good taste.

Accordingly he said nothing; and after a moment had passed Major
Carstairs spoke with something of an effort.

"I am glad to see my wife has found a champion in you," he said, with a
smile which Anstice felt to be forced. "And even although as a partisan
of hers you naturally think me cruel and unjust, may I ask you to
believe that I would give years--literally years--of my life to be able
to think myself mistaken in my first judgment of that unhappy affair!"

The note of passion in the last words moved Anstice powerfully; and he
forgot his own delicate position in a sudden quite unusual desire to
justify himself.

"Major Carstairs, forgive me if I seem to you impertinent, meddlesome. I
know quite well that this is no business of mine, but--but I know Mrs.
Carstairs, and I know she has been made bitterly unhappy by this
wretched misunderstanding. And I am sure, as sure as I am that you and I
sit here to-day, that she never wrote one word of all those beastly
letters--why, I can almost prove it to you, if you really care for such
proof--and then----"

He stopped short, arrested by the change in Carstairs' f