us quit talkin' of George Vyell. We knawed George
Vyell, you and me too; and here we be, left to rear children by en.
But the man we hated over wasn' George Vyell."

"Yet if--as you say--you loved him--the other one--why, when you saw
his life ruined and guessed the lie that ruined it--when a word could
have righted him--if you loved him--"

"Why didn't I speak? Ladies are most dull, somehow; or else you
don't try to see. Or else--Wasn't he near me, passing my door ivery
day? Oh, I'm ignorant and selfish. But hadn't I got him near?
And wouldn't that word have lost him, sent him God knows where--to
_you_ perhaps? You--you'd had your chance, and squandered it like a
fool. I never had no chance. I courted en, but he wouldn' look at
me. He'd have come to your whistle--once. Nothing to hinder but
your money. And from what I can see and guess, you piled up that
money in his face like a hedge. Oh, I could pity you, now!--for now
you'll never have en."

"God pity us both!" said Honoria, going; but she turned at the door.
"And after our marriage you took no more thought of my--of George?"
The question was an afterthought; she never thought to see it stab as
it did. But Lizzie caught at the table edge, held to it swaying over
a gulf of hysterics, and answered between a sob and a passing bitter
laugh.

"At the last--just to try en. No harm done, as it happened.
You needn' mind. He was worthless anyway."

Honoria stepped back, took her by the elbow as she swayed, and seated
her in a chair; and so stood regarding her as a doctor might a
patient. After a while she said--

"I think you will do me injustice, but you must believe as you like.
I am not glad. I am very far from glad or happy. I doubt if I shall
ever be happy again. But I do not hate you as I did."

She went out, closing the door softly.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE SHIP OF STARS.

Taffy guessed nothing of these passions in conflict, these weak
agonies. He went about his daily work, a man grown, thinking his own
thoughts; and these thoughts were of many things; but they held no
room for the problem which meant everything in life to Honoria and
Lizzie--yes, and to Humility, though it haunted her in less
disturbing shape. Humility pondered it quietly with a mind withdrawn
while her hands moved before her on the lace pillow; and pondering
it, she resigned the solution to time. But it filled her thoughts
constantly, none the less.

One noon