man's--!"

He shook his head with that wistful smile of contrition which is already
a plea for pardon.

"I'm not speaking of life in general, but of something in particular. I
want you to understand, before you ask me--what you've come to ask, that
you couldn't make one woman happy while you're doing another a great
wrong."

He was sure now of what was in store for him, and braced himself for his
part. He was one of those men who need but to see peril to see also the
way of meeting it. He stood for a minute, very straight and erect, like
a soldier before a court-martial--a culprit whose guilt is half excused
by his very manliness.

"I have wronged women. They've wronged me, too. All I can do to show I'm
sorry for it is--not to give them the same sort of offence again."

"I'm thinking of one woman--one woman in particular."

He threw back his head with fine confidence.

"I don't know her."

"It's Diane Eveleth. She says--"

"I can imagine what she says. If I were you, I wouldn't pay it more
attention than it deserves."

"It deserves a good deal--if it's true."

"Not from you, Mademoiselle. It belongs to a region into which your
thought shouldn't enter."

"My thought does enter it, I'm afraid. In fact, I think of it so much
that I've invited Mrs. Eveleth to come here this afternoon. I hope you
don't mind meeting her?"

"Certainly not. Why should I?" he demanded, with an air of conscious
rectitude.

Miss Grimston touched a bell.

"Ask Mrs. Eveleth to come in," she said to the footman who answered it.

As Diane entered she greeted Bienville with a slight inclination of the
head, which he returned, bowing ceremoniously.

"I've begged Mrs. Eveleth to meet us," Marion hastened to explain, "for
a very special reason."

"Then perhaps she will be good enough to tell me what it is," Bienville
said, with a look of courteous inquiry.

"Miss Grimston thought--you might be able--to help me."

There was a catch in Diane's voice as she spoke, but she mastered it,
keeping her eyes on his, in the effort to be courageous.

"If there's anything I can do--" he began, allowing the rest of his
sentence to be inferred.

He concealed his nervousness by placing a small gilded chair for Diane
to sit on. He himself took a chair a few feet away, seating himself
sidewise, with his elbow supported on the back, in an easy attitude of
attention. Marion Grimston withdrew to the more distant part of the
room, where, with her