estioned Lady Ingleby, astonished.

"Yes," replied Jim Airth, deliberately. "Seven o'clock, on the first of
June. I stood at the smoking-room window, at a loose end of all things;
sick of myself, dissatisfied with my manuscript, tired of fried
fish--don't laugh; small things, as well as great, go to make up the sum
of a man's depression. Then the gate swung back, and YOU--in golden
capitals--the sunlight in your eyes, came up the garden path. I judged
you to be a woman grown, in years perhaps not far short of my own age; I
guessed you a woman of the world, with a position to fill, and a
knowledge of men and things. Yet you looked just a lovely child, stepping
into fairy-land; the joyful surprise of unexpected holiday danced in your
radiant eyes. Since then, the beautiful side of life has always been
you--YOU, in golden capitals."

Jim Airth paused, and sat silent.

It was quite dark now.

Myra slipped her hand into his, which closed upon it with a strong
unhesitating clasp.

"Go on, Jim," she said, softly.

"I went out into the hall, and saw your name in the visitors' book. The
ink was still wet. The handwriting was that of the holiday-child--I
should like to set you copies! The name surprised me--agreeably. I had
expected to be able at once to place the woman who had walked up the
path. It was a surprise and a relief to find that my Fairy-land Princess
was not after all a fashionable beauty or a society leader, but owned
just a simple Irish name, and lived at a Lodge."

"Go on, Jim," said Lady Ingleby, rather tremulously.

"Then the name 'Shenstone' interested me, because I know the Inglebys--at
least, I knew Lord Ingleby, well; and I shall soon know Lady Ingleby. In
fact I have written to-day asking for an interview. I must see her on
business connected with notes of her husband's which, if she gives
permission, are to be embodied in my book. I suppose if you live near
Shenstone Park you know the Inglebys?"

"Yes," said Myra. "But tell me, Jim; if--if you noticed so much that
first day; if you were--interested; if you wanted to set me copies--yes,
I know I write a shocking hand;--why would you never look at me? Why were
you so stiff and unfriendly? Why were you not as nice to me as you were
to Susie, for instance?"

Jim Airth sat long in silence, staring out into the darkness. At last he
said:

"I want to tell you. Of course, I _must_ tell you. But--may I ask a few
questions first?"

Lady Ingleby also