ou ran away unexpectedly, Mrs. Halton," he said.

"Yes; I thought it was best."

"Miss Daisy also left yesterday. I suppose you have seen her?" he said.

"Yes, she spent the night here."

"Are you friends?"

"Yes."

Tom Lindfield sat down on the arm of the low chair opposite the
writing-table.

"That's the cleverest thing I've ever heard," he said. "I think you
owe me something, and I think you ought to tell me how you managed
it. If she has forgiven you, perhaps I might."

"No. I can't tell you how I managed it," said Jeannie.

"You quite refuse?"

"Quite."

He paused a moment.

"I suppose she asked you a certain question," he said, "which I also
want to ask you. Is it true you are engaged to that nice
fellow--Braithwaite, I mean?"

"Quite true."

Still quite quietly he got up, took out a cigarette, and looked about
for matches. He found some on the chimney-piece, lit his cigarette, and
came back to her.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I didn't ask if I might smoke here?
Thanks. Mrs. Halton, I don't know if you have ever fallen in love. I
have, once."

His voice rose a little over this, as if with suppressed anger. Jeannie
longed almost that he should get angry. This quietness was intolerable.
And she tried to sting him into anger.

"I should have thought you had fallen in love more than once," she said.

This was no good.

"You would have been wrong, then," he said. "I should have thought so
too till just lately. But I have just found out that I never loved
before. I--I did everything else, but I did not love."

"You loved Daisy, do you mean?" she asked.

He flamed up for a moment.

"Ah, there is no good in saying that," he said, sharply. "What can be
the use of it? I met the woman--there is only one--and she led me to
believe that she cared for me. And when I told her that I loved her she
said she had thought I was a gentleman and a friend."

Jeannie felt her heart melt within her.

"Yes, yes, I am sorry," she said.

"That is no good, I am afraid," said he. "You have got to tell me
why you did it. We are man and woman, you and I. I cannot believe
you did it out of sheer wantonness, from the desire to make me
miserable, and, I am afraid, to some extent, to make Miss Daisy
miserable. I don't see what you were to gain by it. Also you risked
something since you were engaged all the time to Braithwaite. And
the only thing I can think of is that for some reason you wished to
get between