--I suppose I shall," confessed Mrs. Harry, and added, "There's one
thing. You may suppose that, as his wife, I am as much concerned as
any--perhaps more than these others. But I don't want you to think that
I suggested hunting you up."

"I do not think anything of the sort. In fact I am sure you did not."

"Thank you."

Ruth had a mind to ask "Who, then, had brought them?" but refrained.
She had guessed, and pretty surely.

"Well," she said with half a laugh, "you have been good and given me
time to recover. It's heavy odds, you see, and--and I have not been
trained for it, exactly. But I feel better. Shall we go back and face
them?"

"One moment, again!" Mrs. Harry's kindly face hung out signals of
distress. "It's heavy odds, as you say. Everything's against you.
But the Lord knows I'm a well-meaning woman, and I'd hate to be unjust.
If only I could be sure--if only you would tell me--"

Ruth stood still and faced her.

"Look in my eyes."

Mrs. Harry looked and was convinced. "But you love him," she murmured;
"and he--"

"Ah, ma'am," said Ruth, "I answer you one question, and you would ask me
another!"

Chapter XII.

LADY CAROLINE.

She walked back to the verandah.

"I understand," she said, "that Lady Caroline wishes a word with me."

With a slight bow she led the way through a low window that opened upon
the Corderys' best parlour, through that apartment, and across a passage
to the door of a smaller room lined with shelves--formerly a stillroom
or store-chamber for home-made wines, cordials, preserves, but now
converted into a boudoir for her use. Its one window looked out upon
the farmyard, now in shadow, and a farther doorway led to the dairy.
It stood open, and beyond it the eye travelled down a vista of cool
slate flags and polished cream-pans.

On the threshold Ruth stood aside to let Lady Caroline enter; followed,
and closed the door; stepped across and closed the door of the dairy.
Lady Caroline meanwhile found a seat, and, lifting her eyeglass, studied
at long range the library disposed upon the store shelves.

"We had best be quite frank," said she, as Ruth came back and stood
before her.

"If you please."

"Of course it is all very scandalous and--er--nauseating, though I dare
say you are unable to see it in that light. I merely mention it in
justice to myself, lest you should mistake me as underrating or even
condoning Sir Oliver's conduct. You will guess, a