; and I was revolted at
the notion of my injurious blunder being discussed. I tried to show you
by my actions that it was as if it had never been. I hoped you would
pardon me without any words. I can't forgive myself, and I never shall.
And yet if you could know--' He stopped short, and then added quietly,
'Well, will you accept all that as an apology? The very scrubbiest
sackcloth made, and the grittiest ashes on the heap....I didn't mean to
get worked up,' he ended lamely.

Mrs Manderson laughed, and her laugh carried him away with it. He knew
well by this time that sudden rush of cascading notes of mirth, the
perfect expression of enjoyment; he had many times tried to amuse her
merely for his delight in the sound of it.

'But I love to see you worked up,' she said. 'The bump with which you
always come down as soon as you realize that you are up in the air
at all is quite delightful. Oh, we're actually both laughing. What a
triumphant end to our explanations, after all my dread of the time when
I should have it out with you. And now it's all over, and you know; and
we'll never speak of it any more.'

'I hope not,' Trent said in sincere relief. 'If you're resolved to be so
kind as this about it, I am not high-principled enough to insist on your
blasting me with your lightnings. And now, Mrs Manderson, I had
better go. Changing the subject after this would be like playing
puss-in-the-corner after an earthquake.' He rose to his feet.

'You are right,' she said. 'But no! Wait. There is another thing--part
of the same subject; and we ought to pick up all the pieces now while we
are about it. Please sit down.' She took the envelope containing Trent's
manuscript dispatch from the table where he had laid it. 'I want to
speak about this.'

His brows bent, and he looked at her questioningly. 'So do I, if you
do,' he said slowly. 'I want very much to know one thing.'

'Tell me.'

'Since my reason for suppressing that information was all a fantasy,
why did you never make any use of it? When I began to realize that I had
been wrong about you, I explained your silence to myself by saying that
you could not bring yourself to do a thing that would put a rope round
a man's neck, whatever he might have done. I can quite understand that
feeling. Was that what it was? Another possibility I thought of was
that you knew of something that was by way of justifying or excusing
Marlowe's act. Or I thought you might have a simple horror