that, won't you?'

'It never occurred to me that you had told him. I know, in fact, who did.
But even if you had--well, you had the right to tell him.' Clarice gave a
stamp of impatience. 'He is your husband.'

'My husband!' she interrupted, and she tore the newspaper across and
dropped it on to the floor. 'My husband! Ah, I wouldn't have believed
that even he could have done a thing so mean. And, to add to the meanness
of it, he went away yesterday, for a week. I know why, now; he dared not
face me.' Then of a sudden her voice softened. 'But it's my fault too, in
a way,' she went on. 'He knew the story a long time ago, and never used
it. I don't suppose he would have used it now, if I hadn't--since your
election--let him see--' She broke off the sentence, and took a step
nearer to Drake. 'Stephen, I meant to let him see.'

Drake drew himself up against the door. It would be no longer of any
service to her, he thought, if he left England and returned to Matanga.
Something more trenchant was needed.

He reflected again that he filled no place which another could not fill,
and the reflection took a wider meaning than it had done before. 'Yes,'
he said; 'it's very awkward that it should all come out just now.'

Clarice stared at him in perplexity. 'Awkward that it should all come
out,' she repeated vaguely; and then, with an accent of relief, 'You mean
that it will injure the Company?'

'Not so much that. The Company can run without me--quite well now--I am
certain of it.' He spoke as though he was endeavouring to assure himself
of what he said.

'But it won't hurt you, really,' she exclaimed. 'You can disprove the
charges, and of course you must, I know you hesitate--for my sake--to
bring an action and expose the writer. But you must, and I don't think,'
she lowered her eyes to the ground, 'you would hurt me by doing that.'
For a moment she was silent. Drake made no answer, and she raised her
eyes again to his face. 'You can disprove it--oh, of course,' she said,
with a little anxious laugh.

'That depends,' he answered slowly, 'upon how much the _Meteor_ knows.'

Clarice drew back and caught at the table to steady herself. Once or
twice she pressed her hand across her forehead. 'Oh, don't stand like
that,' she burst out, 'as if it was all true.'

'But they can't prove it's true,' exclaimed Drake, with a trace of
cunning in his voice. 'No; they can't prove it's true.'

'But is it?' Clarice stood in front of hi