way from the rest."

There was more of appeal in her voice than she intended; and, realising
it, she coloured deeply, and looked away again. He was just the sort of
man to avail himself of a moment's weakness, she told herself, with
rising agitation. Those shrewd eyes of his missed nothing.

But Cheveril gave no sign of having observed her distress. He maintained
his silence for some seconds longer. Then, somewhat abruptly, he broke
it.

"I didn't follow you in order to be amused, Miss Harford," he said. "The
fact is, I have a confession to make to you, and a favour to ask. And I
want you to be good enough to hear me out before you try to answer. May
I count on this?"

The dry query did more to quiet her perturbation than any solicitude.
She was quite convinced that he meant to propose to her, but his absence
of ardour was an immense relief. If he would only be businesslike and
not sentimental, she felt that she could bear it.

"Yes, I will listen," she said, facing him with more self-possession
than she had been able to muster till that moment. "But I shall want a
fair hearing, too--afterwards."

A faint smile flickered across Cheveril's face.

"I shall want to listen to you," he said. "The confession is this: Last
night I went down to the parade to smoke. It was very dark. I don't know
exactly what attracted me. I came upon two people saying good-bye on the
beach. One of them--a woman--was crying."

He paused momentarily. The girl's face had frozen into set lines of
composure. It looked like a marble mask. Her eyes met his with an
assumption of indifference that scarcely veiled the desperate defiance
behind.

"When does the confession begin?" she asked him, with a faint laugh that
sounded tragic in spite of her.

He leaned forward, scrutinising her with a wisdom that seemed to pierce
every barrier of conventionality and search her very soul.

"It begins now," he said. "She came up on to the parade immediately
after, and I waited under a lamp to get a glimpse of her. I saw her
face, Miss Harford. I knew her instantly." The girl's eyes flickered a
little, and she bit her lip. She was about to speak, but he stopped her
with sudden authority. "No, don't answer!" he said. "Hear me out. I
waited till she was gone, and then I joined the young fellow on the
beach. He was in the mood for a sympathetic listener, and I drew him
out. He told me practically everything--how he himself was going to
India and had to lea