eally know in life are mere guesswork," replied
Lady Arabella sagely. "But in this case----"

"Yes. In this case?"

There was a long pause. Then Lady Arabella answered slowly:

"In this case I'm speaking from first-hand information."

Magda's slender figure tautened. She moistened her lips.

"Do you mean that Mr. Quarrington told you he was leaving England on my
account?" she asked.

"I don't often meddle, Magda--not really meddle." Lady Arabella's voice
sounded unusually deprecating. "But I did in this instance. Because--oh,
my dear, he's the only man I've ever seen to whom I'd be glad to give
you up. He'd--he'd manage you, Magda."

Magda's head was turned away, but the sudden scarlet flush that flew up
into her face surged over even the white nape of her neck.

"And he loves you," went on Lady Arabella, her voice softening
incredibly. "It's only a man here or there who really _loves_ a woman,
my dear. Most of them whip up a hotch-potch of quite commonplace
feelings with a dash of passion and call it love, while all they
actually want is a good housekeeper and presentable hostess and someone
to carry on the name."

No answer came from Magda, unless a stifled murmur could be regarded as
such, and after a few minutes Lady Arabella spoke again, irritably.

"Why couldn't you have left Kit alone?"

Magda raised her head.

"What has that to do with it?"

"Everything"--succinctly. "I told you I meddled. Michael Quarrington
came to see me before he went away--and I know precisely why he left
England. I asked him to go and see you before he sailed."

"What did he say?" The words were almost inaudible.

Lady Arabella hesitated. Then she quoted quickly: "'There is no need.
She will understand.'"

To Magda the brief sentence held all the finality of the bolting and
barring of a door. So Quarrington, like everyone else, had heard the
story of Kit Raynham! And he had judged and sentenced her.

That night in the winter-garden he had been on the verge of trusting
her, ready to believe in her, and she had vowed to herself that she
would prove worthy of his trust. She had meant never to fall short of
all that Michael demanded in the woman he loved. And now, before she had
had a chance to justify his hardly-won belief, the past had risen up to
destroy her, surging over her like a great tidal wave and sweeping away
the whole fabric of the happiness she had visioned.

She had not wholly realised before that she loved.