"Tony, of course, knew nothing about this?"

"He knows nothing whatever about it unless you have written him."

Again the old woman moved slightly. "I have waited," she said, "for the
benefit of your explanation. It seems as--as bad as I feared."

"Lady Mary," said the girl in her slow voice, "it's worse than you
feared. I don't undertake to smooth it over. Everything that you have
heard is quite true. I did go out with the man in his motor, in the
evening. Sometimes it was quite dark before we returned. Mr. Meadows
preferred to drive at night because he was not accustomed to the English
rule of taking the left on the road, when one always takes the right in
America. He was afraid he couldn't remember the rule, so it was safer at
night and there was less traffic.

"I shall not try to make the thing appear better than it was. We
sometimes took long runs. Mr. Meadows liked the high roads along the
east coast, where one got a view of the sea and the cold salt air. We
ran prodigious distances. He had the finest motor in England, the very
latest American model. I didn't think so much about night coming on, the
lights on the car were so wonderful. Mr. Meadows was an amazing driver.
We made express-train time. The roads were usually clear at night and
the motor was a perfect wonder. The only trouble we ever had was with
the lights. Sometimes one, of them would go out. I think it was bad
wiring. But there was always the sweep of the sea under the stars to
look at while Mr. Meadows got the thing adjusted."

This long, detailed, shameless speech affected the aged soldier at the
window. It seemed to him immodest bravado. And he suffered in his heart,
as a man old and full of memories can suffer for the damaged honor of a
son he loves.

Continuing, the girl said: "Of course it isn't true that we spent
the nights touring the east coast of England in a racer. It was
dark sometimes when we got in--occasionally after trouble with the
lights--quite dark. We did go thundering distances."

"With this person, alone?" The old woman spoke slowly, like one
delicately probing at a wound.

"Yes," the girl admitted. "You see, the car was a roadster; only two
could go; and, besides, there was no one else. Mr. Meadows said he was
alone in London, and of course I was alone. When Sir Henry asked me to
go down from here I went straight off to the Ritz."

The old woman made a slight, shivering gesture. "You should have gone to
my sister