oved
away to the door.

She heard him give an order to a servant, and sat nervously awaiting his
return. But he did not come back to her. He went outside and waited in
the passage.

There ensued an interval of several minutes, and during that time she sat
crouched over the fire, holding her cloak about her, and shivering,
shivering all over. Then the door which he had left ajar closed quietly,
and she knew that he had come back into the room.

She drew herself together, striving desperately to subdue her agitation.

He came to her side and stooped over her. "I want you to drink this," he
said.

She glanced up at him swiftly, and as swiftly looked away. "Don't bother
about me!" she said. "I--am not worth it."

He passed the low words by. "It's only milk with a dash of brandy," he
said. "Won't you try it?"

Very reluctantly she took the steaming beverage from him and began to
drink.

He remained beside her, and took the cup from her when she had finished.

"Now," he said, "wouldn't it be wise of you to go to bed?"

She made a movement that was almost convulsive. She had his note still
clasped in her hand.

After a moment, without lifting her eyes, she spoke. "Percival, why did
you--what made you--write this?"

"I owed it to you," he said.

"You--meant it?" she said, with an effort.

"Yes. I meant it." He spoke with complete steadiness.

"But--but--" She struggled with herself for an instant; then, "Oh, I've
got to tell you!" she burst forth passionately. "I'm--very wicked."

"No," he said quietly, and laid a constraining hand upon her as she sat.
"That is not so."

She contracted at his touch. "You don't know me. I wrote you a note this
evening, trying to explain. I told you I meant to leave you. But--I
didn't mean you to read it till I was gone. Did you read it?"

"No," he said. "I guessed what you had done."

Desperately she went on. "You've got to know the worst. I was ready to go
away with him. We--were such old friends, and I thought--I thought--I
knew him." She bowed herself lower under his hand. Her face was hidden.
"I thought he was at least a gentleman. I thought I could trust him.
I--believed in him."

"Ah!" said Field. "And now?"

"Now"--her head was sunk almost to her knees--"I know him--for what--he
is." Her voice broke in bitter weeping. "And I had given so much--so
much--to save him!" she sobbed.

"I know," Field said. "He wasn't worth the sacrifice." He stood for a
moment or t