ing very hard, "the kind of unexpected thing
he has done to you?" Lifting her eyes, she saw that a troubled flush was
creeping over Lady Anstruthers' face.

"There--have been--so many queer things," she faltered. Then Betty knew
there was some special thing she was afraid to talk about, and that if
she desired to obtain illuminating information it would be well to go
into the matter.

"Try," she said, "to remember some particular incident."

Lady Anstruthers looked nervous.

"Rosy," in the level voice, "there has been a particular incident--and I
would rather hear of it from you than from him."

Rosy's lap held little shaking hands.

"He has held it over me for years," she said breathlessly. "He said
he would write about it to father and mother. He says he could use it
against me as evidence in--in the divorce court. He says that divorce
courts in America are for women, but in England they are for men,
and--he could defend himself against me."

The incongruity of the picture of the small, faded creature arraigned in
a divorce court on charges of misbehaviour would have made Betty smile
if she had been in smiling mood.

"What did he accuse you of?"

"That was the--the unexpected thing," miserably.

Betty took the unsteady hands firmly in her own.

"Don't be afraid to tell me," she said. "He knew you so well that he
understood what would terrify you the most. I know you so well that I
understand how he does it. Did he do this unexpected thing just before
you wrote to father for the money?" As she quite suddenly presented the
question, Rosy exclaimed aloud.

"How did you know?" she said. "You--you are like a lawyer. How could you
know?"

How simple she was! How obviously an easy prey! She had been
unconsciously giving evidence with every word.

"I have been thinking him over," Betty said. "He interests me. I have
begun to guess that he always wants something when he professes that he
has a grievance."

Then with drooping head, Rosy told the story.

"Yes, it happened before he made me write to father for so much money.
The vicar was ill and was obliged to go away for six months. The
clergyman who came to take his place was a young man. He was kind and
gentle, and wanted to help people. His mother was with him and she was
like him. They loved each other, and they were quite poor. His name was
Ffolliott. I liked to hear him preach. He said things that comforted me.
Nigel found out that he comforted me,