others, and
went out.

Imperceptibly, Helen straightened herself and took a breath. There was a
vague stir in the room.

"Well! I've never been more damned," John said.

"Why?" Helen asked.

"That salute. Is it his usual manner?"

"He has done it before. I liked it."

"He did it very well," said Rupert. "Inspired, I should think. Will you
have a cigarette?"

"Will it make me sick?"

"Try it. But why do we find you entertaining the moorland rake?"

She was absurd with the cigarette between her lips, and she asked
mumblingly as Rupert held the match, "Why do you call him that?"

Rupert spread his hands. "He has a reputation."

"And he deserves it," said John.

She took the cigarette and many little pieces of tobacco from her mouth.
"Before you go any further, I think I had better tell you that I am
married to him."

"Good God!" John said, in a conversational tone.

There was a pause that threatened to be everlasting.

"Helen, dear, did you say 'married to him'?"

"Yes, I did."

Rupert lighted one cigarette from another and carefully threw the old
one into the fire.

"When?" John asked. He was still staring at her.

"I forget the date."

"Won't you tell us about it?" Rupert said. He leaned against the
mantelpiece and puffed quickly.

"There's nothing more to tell."

"But when was it?" John persisted.

"Oh--about a month, six weeks, ago. The paper is upstairs, but one
forgets."

"Wants to?"

"I didn't say so, did I? Notya is not to know."

"And Zebedee?"

"Of course he knows."

Rupert was frowning on her with a troubled look, and she knew he was
trying to understand, that he was anxious not to hurt her.

"I'm damned if I understand it," John muttered.

Her lips had a set smile. "I'm sure," she said lightly, "you'll never be
damned for that. I'm afraid I can't explain, but Zebedee knows
everything."

They found nothing else to say: John turned away, at last, and busied
himself uneasily with his pipe: Rupert's cigarette became distasteful,
and, throwing it after the other, he drove his hands into his pockets
and watched it burn.

"I suppose we ought to have congratulated George," he said, and looked
grieved at the omission.

Helen laughed on a high note, and though she knew she was disclosing her
own trouble by that laughter, she could not stay it.

"Oh, Rupert, don't!"

"My dear, I know it's funny, but I meant it. I wish I could marry you
myself."

She laughed again and wa