deceived him.

"It would only be fair. You made me," he rejoined, and there was
something so charming in his words and way, that she would have been glad
to do it.

But she governed herself against the temptation and said, "Women are not
good at forgetting, at least till they know what."

"Oh, I'll tell you, if you want to know," he said with a laugh, and at
the words she--sank provisionally in their accustomed seat. He sat down
beside her, but not so near as usual, and he waited so long before he
began that it seemed as if he had forgotten again. "Why, it's nothing.
Miss Etkins and her mother were here before you came, and this is a
bouquet that I meant to give her at the train when she left. But I
decided I wouldn't, and I threw it onto the shelf in the closet."

"May I ask why you thought of taking a bouquet to her at the train?"

"Well, she and her mother--I had been with them a good deal, and I
thought it would be civil."

"And why did you decide not to be civil?"

"I didn't want it to look like more than civility."

"Were they here long?"

"About a week. They left just after the Marches came."

Agatha seemed not to heed the answer she had exacted. She sat reclined in
the corner of the seat, with her head drooping. After an interval which
was long to Burnamy she began to pull at a ring on the third finger of
her left hand, absently, as if she did not know what she was doing; but
when she had got it off she held it towards Burnamy and said quietly, "I
think you had better have this again," and then she rose and moved slowly
and weakly away.

He had taken the ring mechanically from her, and he stood a moment
bewildered; then he pressed after her.

"Agatha, do you--you don't mean--"

"Yes," she said, without looking round at his face, which she knew was
close to her shoulder. "It's over. It isn't what you've done. It's what
you are. I believed in you, in spite of what you did to that man--and
your coming back when you said you wouldn't--and--But I see now that what
you did was you; it was your nature; and I can't believe in you any
more."

"Agatha!" he implored. "You're not going to be so unjust! There was
nothing between you and me when that girl was here! I had a right to--"

"Not if you really cared for me! Do you think I would have flirted with
any one so soon, if I had cared for you as you pretended you did for me
that night in Carlsbad? Oh, I don't say you're false. But you're
fickle--"

"B