privilege had already been sought by
and granted to Mr. Greenacre, and as his one great object was to avert
shame and sorrow from his friends at Battersea Park, Gammon acquitted
himself with entire discretion; that is to say, he did not allow Miss
Trefoyle to suspect that there had been anything between him and her
brother except a sort of boon companionship. In behaving thus he knew
that he was acting as Mrs. Clover most earnestly desired. Not many
hours before he had discharged what he felt to be his duty, had made
known to Mrs. Clover the facts of her position, and had heard the
unforgettable accent of her voice as she entreated him to keep this
secret. That there might be no doubt as to the truth of Greenacre's
assertions he had accompanied that gentleman to Somerset House, and had
perused certain entries in the registers of marriage and of death
indicated to him by his friend's forefinger; clearly then, if he and
Greenacre kept silence, it would never become known, even to Polperro's
kinsfolk, that his lordship had been guilty of bigamy.

Stay! one other person knew the true name of Mrs. Clover's
husband--Polly Sparkes.

"Polly be hanged," muttered Gammon.

"When is the wedding?" Greenacre inquired casually in one of their
conversations.

"Wedding? Whose wedding?"

"Why, yours."

Gammon's face darkened. A change had come about in his emotions. He was
afraid of Polly, he was weary of Polly, he heartily wished he had never
seen Polly's face. For self-scrutiny Gammon had little inclination and
less aptitude; he could not have explained the origin and progress of
his nearer relations with Miss Sparkes. Going straight to the point,
like a man of business, he merely knew that he had made a condemnable
mistake, and the question was how to put things right.

"There's one bit of luck," he remarked, instead of answering the
inquiry, "she isn't on speaking terms with her aunt."

"I'm rather glad to hear that. But do you think she'll hold out against
her curiosity?"

"In any case she won't learn anything from Mrs. Clover. I'm pretty sure
of that."

"I can only hope you're right about Mrs. Clover," said Greenacre
musingly. "If so, she must be a rather uncommon sort of woman,
especially--if you will excuse the remark--in that class."

"She is," replied Gammon with noteworthy emphasis. "I don't know a
woman like her--no one like her. I wouldn't mind betting all I have
that she'll never speak a word as long as she