u know;
she married that nice Frenchman, Monsieur Dupre. After that she
lived abroad till the time of her death. The fact of that you will
certainly remember, though it is now some years since it happened.
Where are we? Yes, 1908. Then Diana died in 1903, five years ago. So
at least we were told at the time. It was in 1903 that we, all of
us, you, Daisy, and I, believed that Diana died."

Jeannie gave a long sigh.

"My story of why Daisy cannot marry Tom Lindfield has begun, dear
Alice," she said, "for Diana did not die then. She lived for four years
after that, and died last autumn only, in my arms, thank God! I thank
God, my dear, that she died, and I thank God that I was with her. There
was no one else, not her husband even."

Alice Nottingham turned on her a face that was puzzled, and was
beginning to get frightened.

"But what does it all mean?" she said. "It is very disquieting, very
strange, but what does it lead to? Daisy--Tom Lindfield."

"I am telling you as shortly as I can," said Jeannie. "Do not interrupt
me, dear. It was last autumn she died, not five years ago as we had
supposed. Five years ago she was--was found out, if you understand--she
was found to have been living with another man not her husband. He
learned that, and he forgave her, for he adored her with a tender,
unwavering devotion that is very rare. She was to him like a child who
has been naughty and must be forgiven. Then in a few weeks only after
that she fell again. Even then he did not divorce her, or make her bear
the shame and publicity of what she had done; he simply let her go."

Jeannie was still speaking slowly and quietly, as if reading out some
report which had to be mastered by her friend. But on the words "let her
go" her voice trembled a little. But then she again recaptured the
completeness of her self-control.

"Whether that was wise or not," she said, "whether it might not have
been better if he had let Diana bear the punishment that human law has
ordained for those poor things who behave as she behaved, we need not
inquire. Nor need I tell you the details of how it was all managed,
which I learned from Diana so few weeks before she died last year. It is
sufficient for me to say that they left their home near Amiens together,
ostensibly for a long foreign travel. After some weeks he sent home the
news of her sudden death; he sent the news also to us in England. You
were told, I and Daisy were told. And Diana, poor, po