empted to put his arm round the girl's waist, as was his undoubted
privilege. She with the gentlest possible motion rejected his
embrace, and contrived to stand at a little distance from him. But
she said nothing. The subject to be discussed was so difficult that
words would not come to her assistance. Then he lent her his aid.
"You do not mean that you're in a tiff because of what I said just
now. Of course it is better that we should not be together for the
few days before our marriage."

"I do not think that I am in a tiff, Sir Francis. I hope I am not,
because what I have to say is too serious for ill-humour." Then she
paused. "What I have got to say is of some importance;--of very great
importance. Sir Francis Geraldine, I feel that I have to ask you to
forgive me."

"What on earth is the matter?"

"You may well ask. And, indeed, I do not know how to excuse
myself. Your friends will say that I am frivolous, and vain, and
discontented."

"What the mischief is it all about?" he demanded with an angry voice.

She knew she had not as yet told him. She could perceive that he had
not gathered from her first words any inkling of the truth; and yet
she did not know how to tell him. If it were once told she could, she
thought, defend herself. But the difficulty was to find the words by
which she could let him know what was her intention. "Sir Francis, I
fear that we have misunderstood each other."

"How misunderstood? Why Sir Francis? Am I to understand that you want
to quarrel with me because I am going away? If so speak it out. I
shall go just the same."

"Your going has no bearing upon my present purpose. I had made up my
mind before I had heard of your going;--only when I did hear of it it
became necessary that I should tell you at once."

"But you have told me nothing. I hate mysteries, and secrets, and
scenes. There is nothing goes against the grain so much with me as
tragedy airs. If you have done anything amiss that it is necessary
that I should know let me know it at once." As he said this there
came across his brow a look of anger and of hot ill-humour, such as
she had never seen there before. The effect was to induce her to
respect him rather than to be afraid of him. It was well that a man
should have the power and the courage to show his anger.

But it encouraged her to proceed with her task. She certainly was not
afraid of him personally, though she did dread what the world might
say of her, and es