ntry of some one who was
seeking to make amends without changing his point of view. Mrs. Carter
was too obviously self-conscious. She protested too much. Berenice
knew that she could find out for herself if she chose, but would she
choose? The thought sickened her, and yet who was she to judge too
severely?

Cowperwood came in bright and early to put as good a face on the matter
as he could. He explained how he and Braxmar had gone to the police
station to make a charge; how Chadsey, sobered by arrest, had abandoned
his bravado and humbly apologized. When viewing the letter handed him
by Mrs. Carter he exclaimed:

"Oh yes. He was very glad to promise to write that if we would let him
off. Braxmar seemed to think it was necessary that he should. I
wanted the judge to impose a fine and let it go at that. He was drunk,
and that's all there was to it."

He assumed a very unknowing air when in the presence of Berenice and
her mother, but when alone with the latter his manner changed
completely.

"Brazen it out," he commanded. "It doesn't amount to anything. Braxmar
doesn't believe that this man really knows anything. This letter is
enough to convince Berenice. Put a good face on it; more depends on
your manner than on anything else. You're much too upset. That won't
do at all; you'll tell the whole story that way."

At the same time he privately regarded this incident as a fine windfall
of chance--in all likelihood the one thing which would serve to scare
the Lieutenant away. Outwardly, however, he demanded effrontery,
assumption; and Mrs. Carter was somewhat cheered, but when she was
alone she cried. Berenice, coming upon her accidentally and finding
her eyes wet, exclaimed:

"Oh, mother, please don't be foolish. How can you act this way? We had
better go up in the country and rest a little while if you are so
unstrung."

Mrs. Carter protested that it was merely nervous reaction, but to
Berenice it seemed that where there was so much smoke there must be
some fire.

Her manner in the aftermath toward Braxmar was gracious, but remote. He
called the next day to say how sorry he was, and to ask her to a new
diversion. She was sweet, but distant. In so far as she was concerned
it was plain that the Beales Chadsey incident was closed, but she did
not accept his invitation.

"Mother and I are planning to go to the country for a few days," she
observed, genially. "I can't say just when we shall return