ted in which Molly
would not be expected to refund what she had spent, and would have the
possession of Westmoreland House and its contents. The sale would
realise enough to save her from actual want, and yet she would not be
receiving a pension from Lady Rose. Her mind got out of gear and flashed
through these thoughts until, unable to check it in any way, she burst
into tears. She felt the self-deception of such plans with physical
pain. What was that money in the bank at Florence but blackmail gathered
in during Sir David's life? "Why cannot I be straight even now?" she
whispered. She was still sitting on the couch with one leg drawn up
under her, gazing intently at the ground. No, the only money she
possessed was L2000 invested at 31/2 per cent. "L70 a year--that is
less than I have given Carey, or the cook, or the butler."

The fact was that while her heart and soul had gone forward in dumb pain
in utter darkness with the single aim of undoing the sin done, the mind
still lagged and reasoned. This is a peculiar agony, and Molly had to
drink of that agony.

Gradually and mercilessly her reason told her that an arrangement with
Lady Rose, the appearance of having the right of possession in
Westmoreland House, the readiness of all concerned to bury the story,
and the possession of a fair income, would make it possible to live in
her own class quietly but, if tactfully, with a good repute. Then the
thought of any kind of compromise became intolerable to her, and she
realised that it was a fancy picture, not a real temptation.

To pretend that Westmoreland House was her own she could not do, but
what was the alternative? Dragging poverty and shame, and with no
opportunity for hiding what had passed, for living it down. Even if she
did the impossible to her pride and consented to receive a good
allowance from Lady Rose, it would not be at all the same in the world's
view as the dignified income that could be raised from Westmoreland
House, and from her mother's jewels and furniture. Her fingers
unconsciously touched the pearls round her neck. Surely she need not
speculate as to how her mother obtained the magnificent jewels which she
had worn up to the end? Then more light came--hard and cold, but clear.
If Molly had been innocent these things might have been so, but Molly
had committed a fraud on a great scale. It would be by the mercy of the
injured that she would be spared the rigours of the law. It was by the
supr