ut. "I am to blame. Why
shouldn't I tell? Was there anything to be ashamed of? For you? For
me?"

"No, Jerry. The surest proof of it is that I'm not angry with
you--with either of you. But I must be going."

"I'm going with you," said Jerry quickly.

"No."

"Let him, Miss Habberton," I put in.

"I had better go alone."

"I forbid it," said Jerry. "The machine is at the upper gate. I'll
drive you. Come."

She hesitated. Our glances met. I think she must have seen the
eagerness in my face, the friendliness, the admiration. She read too
the revolt in Jerry's eyes, the dawning of something like reason and
of his grave sense of the injustice that had been done to her. He
pleaded almost piteously--as though her acquiescence were the only
sign he could have of her forgiveness.

"Very well," she said at last, "to the station, then."

"No," said Jerry firmly, "to town. I'm going to drive you to town.
We've got to have a talk. We've got to--to clear this thing up."

She hesitated again and I think she felt the need of companionship at
that moment.

"But your guests--"

"Oh, I'll be here," I said. "They'll be going soon. Jerry can be back
in time for the party."

"I'm not going to that party," Jerry muttered savagely.

He meant it. I bade them good-by--watched them until they passed out
of sight and hearing, and then sank on a nearby rock, and hugged my
knees in quiet ecstasy.

CHAPTER XXI

JERRY ASKS QUESTIONS

Fortunately for me, neither Jack Ballard nor the expected overflow
from the Van Wyck house-party came to disturb the serenity of my
thoughts, Jack being suddenly called to Newport, the guests having
been taken in elsewhere. So I sat up alone for Jerry until late and
finally went to bed, happily conscious that my embassy, impossible as
it had seemed, had borne fruit after all. Jerry did not go to Marcia
Van Wyck's party, and his evening clothes remained where Christopher
had laid them out, on the bed in his room. I gave myself an added
pleasure in slumber that night by going in and looking at them before
I sought my own room. I cannot remember a night when I have slept more
soundly and I rose refreshed and intensely eager to hear how things
had gone with Jerry and the dear lady whom I had once so inaptly
dubbed "the minx." At the breakfast table Poole informed me that Jerry
had returned late to the Manor and was sleeping. It was good. The
glimmerings of reason that had appeared in the boy du