n't you going back?"

"Mother doesn't want me--I don't want to go."

"Does your mother know?"

"She knows nothing."

Janet stared. "Then what?" she asked abruptly.

Sally dropped into a chair. "Mrs. Priestly--Maurie's mother--is
being divorced. They found it out to-day in the papers. Maurie's not
her husband's child. They packed him off at once; weren't even going
to send any one with him. I said I'd go. Mother said if I did, she'd
never have me in the house again. That didn't make any difference
to me. I was going in any case."

"Why?"

"A Mr. Grierson down there, asked me to marry him. I couldn't consent
without telling him."

"You told him?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"Not very much. Just that at first he couldn't believe it. Then, when
he saw I was telling the truth, he said nothing."

"Why did you tell him?"

"Because--it was only right--it was only fair."

Janet gazed at her, eyes softened with a gentle admiration.

"Do you remember what you told me about your father?" she said.

"Yes, why?"

"I expect you must he very like him. Only, instead of being a slave
to a Church, you're a slave to your heart. You're just as much the
type of woman whom the world wants and treats damned badly--I don't
care if I do swear--as he was the type of man whom an institution
like the Church of England requires--and treats damned badly too.
I guess you're exactly like your father."

"That's what mother said; but she didn't put it in that way. She said
I was a fool--like father was."

"Hum!" said Janet, and picked up her brush again. For a time she
worked in silence, eyes strained to the fine lines, breath held in
to steady her hand, then liberated with a sudden grunting sound.

"Would you have married the man?" she asked presently.

"Yes."

Janet painted in a few more lines. "Do you mean to say you didn't
realize that he wouldn't be able to stand what you told him?"

"I expected it."

"Then why--?"

"Simply it wasn't fair. You couldn't make it fair, however much you
tried. You'd have done the same yourself. I think I could have been
happy with him if he knew. I'd have worshipped his children. But I
should have been miserable if he didn't know."

"So you've learnt at last what I told you?" said Janet. "Did Traill
never wish you to have a child?"

"No; I don't think so. He never said anything about it."

"And you?"

"No; I don't think I did. I was too happy."

Janet bent down over the drawin