irst Offenders Act and
forgiven me. And now, William, I will kiss you once again (with
Henry's full consent) for your youth and innocence.' And I suited the
action to the word. 'So will Marion, won't you, dear?'

At this William started as if shot. 'Never, never!' he
exclaimed, staring at Marion with a hunted look, 'it would be
preposterous--infamous.'

The situation was decidedly awkward, especially as Marion, going
suddenly pale, gave a little hysterical sort of cry and ran out of the
room.

The meal that followed was a silent one. Marion did not speak at all,
and when she was not casting furtive glances in William's direction,
kept her gaze fixed on her plate. William was monosyllabic, partly, I
gathered, on account of recent events, and partly because one of his
patent leather boots was obviously causing him anguish. I noticed that
he occasionally lifted his foot (as an animal raises a wounded paw) and
then set it down again with a sort of half moan.

For one reason I was rather grateful that my guests were so abstracted.
That reason was Elizabeth. Her behaviour during dinner, to put it
mildly, was disturbing and abnormal. Every time she entered the room
to change the plates or hand round the dishes she went through
remarkable pantomimic gestures behind the unconscious William's back.
She drew my attention to him by nods, winks, and significant gestures.
Once or twice she was impelled to clap her hand over her mouth and dash
from the room in a spasm of uncontrollable mirth. It was most
unnerving; and what with William's gloomy looks, Marion's abstraction,
and my constant fear that Elizabeth would spill gravy, custard or
something of an equally clinging character, over William during her
contortions behind him, I was relieved when the meal was ended.

[Illustration: She dashed from the room in a spasm of mirth.]

William at once retired to the study with Henry, presumably for a chat,
but chiefly, as I afterwards discovered, to remove his right boot for
an hour's respite. He left early, limping heavily.

'It is really most curious about William,' I said to Marion as we sat
alone in the drawing-room--Henry having remained in the study to finish
some work. 'One can hardly conceive a reason strong enough to induce
him to renounce his aboriginal mode of living and become so highly
civilized almost in a day.'

Marion lowered her head, and I thought she looked self-conscious. 'A
man might do a thing l