ou are probably the first lady with whom I have ever
spoken. I do not want to deceive you. I never had a scrap of education.
My father was a carpenter who drank himself to death, and my mother was
a factory girl. I was in the workhouse when I was a boy. I have never
been to school. I don't know how to talk properly, but I should be worse
even than I am, if I had not had to mix up with a lot of men in the City
who had been properly educated. I am utterly and miserably ignorant.
I've got low tastes and lots of 'em. I was drunk a few nights ago--I've
done most of the things men who are beasts do. There! Now, don't you
want to run away?"

She shook her head and smiled up at him. She was immensely interested.

"If that is the worst," she said gently, "I am not at all frightened.
You know that it is my profession to write about men and women. I belong
to a world of worn-out types, and to meet any one different is quite a
luxury."

"The worst!" A sudden fear sent an icy coldness shivering through his
veins. His heart seemed to stop beating, his cheeks were blanched.
The worst of him. He had not told her that he was a robber, that the
foundation of his fortunes was a lie; that there lived a man who might
bring all this great triumph of his shattered and crumbling about his
ears. A passionate fear lest she might ever knew of these things was
born in his heart at that moment, never altogether to leave him.

The sound of a footstep close at hand made them both turn their heads.
Along the winding path came Da Souza, with an ugly smirk upon his white
face, smoking a cigar whose odour seemed to poison the air. Trent turned
upon him with a look of thunder.

"What do you want here, Da Souza?" he asked fiercely.

Da Souza held up the palms of his hands.

"I was strolling about," he said, "and I saw you through the trees. I
did not know that you were so pleasantly engaged," he added, with a wave
of his hat to the girl, "or I would not have intruded."

Trent kicked open the little iron gate which led into the garden beyond.

"Well, get out, and don't come here again," he said shortly. "There's
plenty of room for you to wander about and poison the air with those
abominable cigars of yours without coming here."

Da Souza replaced his hat upon his head. "The cigars, my friend, are
excellent. We cannot all smoke the tobacco of a millionaire, can we,
miss?"

The girl, who was making some notes in her book, continued her work
witho