red.

"I can't delay our engagement," he said. "I must speak to her
to-day--some time."

Then he moved so as to face his sister, and their eyes met. Misery was
plainly visible in hers, in his the fixed determination to ignore that
misery.

"May I ask you one question?" she began in a shaky voice.

He made no reply, but waited in silence for the question.

"When did it happen? I've no right to ask, dear, but tell me when did it
happen?"

There was a strange look of conflict in his face that he was unable to
control. "On Monday, just before dinner," he said, and he took some
papers from the desk as if he were about to read them. Then he put them
down again and took out his cigar case.

Lady Dashwood walked slowly to the door. When she reached it, she
turned.

"No man," she said, still with an unsteady voice, "is bound to carry
out a promise made in a reckless moment, against his better judgment, a
promise which involves the usefulness of his life. As to Belinda, I
suppose I must endure the presence of that woman next week; I must
endure it, because I hadn't the sense--the foresight--to prevent her
putting a foot in this house."

The Warden's face twitched.

"Am I expecting too much from you, Lena?" he asked.

"Expecting too much!" Lady Dashwood made her way blindly to the door. "I
have wrecked your life by sheer stupidity, and I am well punished." At
the door she stayed. "Of course, Jim, I shall now back you up, through
thick and thin."

She went out and stood for a moment, her head throbbing. She had said
all. She had spoken as she had never spoken in her life before, she had
said her last word. Now she must be silent and go through with it all
unless--unless--something happened--unless some merciful accident
happened to prevent it. She went downstairs again and crossed the hall
to the door of the breakfast-room. May was still there, holding a
newspaper in her hands, apparently reading it.

Lady Dashwood walked straight in, and then said quietly: "They are
practically engaged." She saw the paper in May's hand quiver.

"Yes," said May, without moving her paper. "Of course."

Her voice sounded small and hard. Lady Dashwood moved about as if to
arrange something, and then stood at the dull little window looking out
miserably, seeing nothing.

"I wonder--I hope, you won't be vexed with me. Aunt Lena," began May.
"You won't be angry----"

"I couldn't be angry with you," said Lady Dashwood briefly, "but-