stn't let
any one else into the flat."

She stopped for a moment to dry her eyes, which were still wet with
tears, and then walking quickly to the door disappeared into the
passage. She was only gone for a few seconds. I just had time to get
to my feet when she came back into the room, and shutting the door
behind her, turned the key in the lock. Then with a little gasp
she leaned against the wall. For the first time I realized what an
amazingly beautiful girl she had grown into.

"Neil, Neil," she said, stretching out her hands; "is it really you!"

I came across, and taking her in my arms very gently kissed her
forehead.

"My little Joyce," I said. "My dear, brave little Joyce."

She buried her face in my coat, and I felt her hand moving up and down
my sleeve.

"Oh," she sobbed, "if I had only known where to find you before! Ever
since you escaped I have been hoping and longing that you would come
to me." Then she half pushed me back, and gazed up into my face with
her blue, tear-stained eyes. "Where have you been? What have they done
to you? Oh, tell me--tell me, Neil. It's breaking my heart to see you
so different."

For a moment I hesitated. I would have given much if I could have
undone the work of the last few minutes, for even to be revenged on
George I would not willingly have brought my wretched troubles and
dangers into Joyce's life. Now that I had done so, however, there
seemed to be no other course except to tell her the truth. It was
impossible to leave her in her present agony of bewilderment and
doubt.

Pulling up one of the chairs I sat down, drawing her on to my knee.

"If I had known it was you, Joyce," I said, "I should have let George
go to the devil before I followed him here."

"But why?" she asked. "Where should you go to if you didn't come to
me?"

"Oh, my poor Joyce," I said bitterly; "haven't I brought enough
troubles and horrors into your life already?"

She interrupted me with a low, passionate cry. "_You_ talk like
that! You, who have lost everything for my wretched sake! Can't you
understand that every day and night since you went to prison I've
loathed and hated myself for ever telling you anything about it? If
I'd dreamed what was going to happen I'd have let Marks--"

I stopped her by crushing her in my arms, and for a little while she
remained there sobbing bitterly, her cheek resting on my shoulder. For
a moment or two I didn't feel exactly like talking myself.

In