because you were the victim,
you of all the persons in the world!"

She had put the ring down, and now she took it up again and examined it
curiously.

"It is rather--quaint, isn't it?" she asked.

"Oh, very."

He thought he heard a sob and looked up. She was laughing, at first
silently, then, as the humour of the thing seized her, her laugh rang
clear and he caught its infection.

"It's funny," she said at last, wiping her eyes, "there is a humorous
side to it. Poor Mr. Beale!"

"I deserve a little pity," he said ruefully.

"Why?" she asked quickly. "Have you committed bigamy?"

"Not noticeably so," he answered, with a smile.

"Well, what are you going to do about it? It's rather serious when one
thinks of it--seriously. So I am Mrs. Stanford Beale--poor Mr. Beale,
and poor Mrs. Beale-to-be. I do hope," she said, and this time her
seriousness was genuine, "that I have not upset any of your plans--too
much. Oh," she sat down suddenly, staring at him, "it would be awful,"
she said in a hushed voice, "and I would never forgive myself. Is
there--forgive my asking the question, but I suppose," with a flashing
smile, "as your wife I am entitled to your confidence--is there somebody
you are going to marry?"

"I have neither committed bigamy nor do I contemplate it," said Beale,
who was gradually recovering his grip of the situation, "if you mean am
I engaged to somebody--in fact, to a girl," he said recklessly, "the
answer is in the negative. There will be no broken hearts on my side of
the family. I have no desire to probe your wounded heart----"

"Don't be flippant," she stopped him sternly; "it is a very terrible
situation, Mr. Beale, and I hardly dare to think of it."

"I realize how terrible it is," he said, suddenly bold, "and as I tell
you, I will do everything I can to correct my blunder."

"Does Mr. Kitson know?" she asked.

He nodded.

"What did Mr. Kitson say? Surely he gave you some advice."

"He said----" began Stanford, and went red.

The girl did not pursue the subject.

"Come, let us talk about the matter like rational beings," she said
cheerfully. "I have got over my first inclination to swoon. You must
curb your very natural desire to be haughty."

"I cannot tell you what we can do yet. I don't want to discuss the
unpleasant details of a divorce," he said, "and perhaps you will let me
have a few days before we decide on any line of action. Van Heerden is
still at large, and until he