o things especially to think about, and she began by wondering what
Mrs. Hartley would say if she knew that Alan Walcott's wife was alive,
and by repeating what he had said to her that morning: that a man was
not bound to tell his private affairs to the world. No! she told
herself, it was impossible for any man of self-respect to wear his heart
on his sleeve, to assume beforehand that people would mistake his
position, and to ticket himself as a deserted husband, lest forward
girls should waste their wiles upon him.

The thought was odious; and yet she had suggested it to him! Had she not
done more than that? Had she not implied that he had done a dishonorable
thing in concealing what he was in no way bound to reveal? What would he
think of her, or impute to her, for raising such a point at the very
moment when he was displaying his confidence in her, and appealing for
her sympathy? She blushed with shame at the idea.

He was already completely justified in her mind, for she did not go so
far as to put the case which a third person might have put in her own
interest. If Alan had been unfair or inconsiderate to anyone, it was
surely to Lettice herself. He had spoken familiarly to her, sought her
company, confessed his admiration in a more eloquent language than that
of words, and asked for a return of sentiment by those subtle appeals
which seem to enter the heart through none of the ordinary and ticketed
senses. It is true that he had not produced in her mind the distinct
impression that she was anything more to him than an agreeable talker
and listener in his conversational moods; but that was due to her
natural modesty rather than to his self-restraint. He had been
impatient, at times, of her slowness to respond, and it was only when he
saw whither this impatience was leading him that he resolved to tell her
all that she ought to know. It was not his delay, however, that
constituted the injustice of his conduct, but the fact of his appealing
to her in any way for the response which he had no right to ask.

Lettice was just as incapable of thinking that she had been unjustly
treated as she was of believing that Alan Walcott loved her. Thus she
was spared the humiliation that might have fallen on her if she had
understood that his visit was partly intended to guard her against the
danger of giving her love before it had been asked.

Having tried and acquitted her friend, and having further made up her
mind that she w