t whom forces more
potent held it inexorably apart.

Desmond had long since passed beyond the border-line of definite
thought; while Evelyn's mind rapidly reverted to the more congenial
atmosphere of things terrestrial. An unknown force was urging her to
speak openly to her husband, to rid herself of the shadow that had
begun to tarnish the bright surface of life. It would be easier to
speak in dusk than in bald daylight--easier also before the bloom of
reunion had been rubbed off by the prosaic trivialities of life. In
her present position, too, it would be possible to avoid his gaze; and
she found a singular difficulty in tampering with facts when Theo's
eyes were on her face.

She watched him speculatively for a few moments, and wondered what
change would come over him when her tale was told. Anger frightened
and repelled her; and for all his hastiness she had seldom seen more
than a mere spark of his inner fire.

He seemed to have forgotten her existence; and by way of gentle
reminder she shifted her position.

"Theo," she said under her breath.

He felt the movement without catching the sound of his name, and
turned to her quickly, impulsive speech upon his lips.

"By the way, Ladybird, there's something I want to tell you, and this
is a good opportunity."

The coincidence so startled her that her own half-fledged impulse
scurried back to its nest. Nor was she certain whether the sigh that
escaped her expressed disappointment or relief.

"What is it?" she asked--"something nice?"

The characteristic question set him smiling.

"You must judge for yourself. It chiefly concerns the Boy. You're fond
of him, aren't you?"

"Yes; he's nice enough. But why?"

"You wouldn't mind if we put ourselves out a little to get him out of
a difficulty?"

"Well, that would rather depend on what we had to do." Her tone,
though still pleasant, was guarded. "What kind of difficulty?"

"Money."

She turned her face away something suddenly, and felt very thankful
that day was fading from the sky.

"Do you mean--lending him money?" she asked blankly.

"No--giving it. I prefer it that way. There's no need to tell you his
troubles in detail; it would hardly be fair to him. They, are of a
kind you can't know anything about; and I hope you never will."

In the fewest possible words he gave her an outline of Harry's story;
of the parting with Roland, and the promise he had exacted in return
for his help. He spoke through