not a soul has said a civil word
to me--since you left. I just couldn't stand it any longer. I packed up
this morning and I came away without saying a word to any one."

Granet glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past ten.

"Well, the first thing to do is to get you something to eat," he said;
ringing the bell. "Do you mind having something here or would you like
to go to a restaurant?"

"I should much prefer having it here," she declared. "I am not fit to go
anywhere, and I am tired."

He rang the bell and gave Jarvis a few orders. The girl stood up before
the glass, took off her hat and smoothed her hair with her hands. She
had the air of being absolutely at home.

"Did you come up without any luggage at all?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"I have a dressing-bag and a few things downstairs on a taxicab," she
said. "I told the man to stop his engine and wait for a time--until I
had seen you," she added, turning around.

There was a very slight smile upon her lips, the glimmer of something
that was almost appealing, in her eyes. Granet took her hand and patted
it kindly. Her response was almost hysterical.

"It's very sweet of you to trust me like this," he said. "Jarvis will
bring you something to eat, then I'll take you round to your aunt's.
Where is it she lives--somewhere in Kensington, isn't it? Tomorrow we
must talk things over."

She threw herself back once more in the easy-chair and glanced around
her.

"I should like," she decided, "to talk them over now."

He glanced towards the door.

"Just as you please," he said, "only Jarvis will be in with your
sandwiches directly."

She brushed aside his protest.

"I was obliged," she continued, "to say that I was engaged to you, to
save you from something--I don't know what. The more I have thought
about it, the more terrible it has all seemed. I am not going to even
ask you for any explanation. I--I daren't."

Granet looked at his cigarette for a moment thoughtfully. Then he threw
it into the fire.

"Perhaps you are wise," he said coolly. "All the same, when the time
comes there is an explanation."

"It is the present which has become such a problem," she went on. "I was
driven to leave home and I don't think I can go back again. Father is
simply furious with me, and every one about the place seems to have an
idea that I am somehow to blame for what happened the other night."

"That seems to me a little unjust," he protested.

"It isn't