right?

Connie had been naturally a little anxious. She, womanlike, had built up
a series of tragedies in her mind, the worst of which was Johnny and
Ellice lying injured and unconscious on some far distant roadway; the
least a smashed and disabled car, and Johnny and Ellice sitting
disconsolate on a roadside bank.

But here they were, all safe and sound, and Connie bustled about,
hurrying up the long delayed dinner, making anxious enquiries, and
feeling a sense of relief and gratitude for their safe return, about
which she said nothing at all.

And now Connie was gone to bed, and Ellice too; and Johnny smoked his
pipe and frowned over it, and asked himself questions to which he could
find no answer.

"But I trust her, absolutely," he said aloud. "Still, if she knows the
man"--he paused--"why hasn't she spoken to me about him? I am to be her
husband soon, thank Heaven, but--"

And then came more doubts and worries crowding into his mind, and his
pipe went out, and he sat there, frowning at thoughts, greatly worried.

Johnny Everard looked up at the sound of the opening of the door. In the
doorway stood a little figure. He had never realised how little she was
till he saw her now, standing there with her bare feet and a thin white
dressing-gown over her nightdress, her hair hanging in great waving
tresses about her oval face and shoulders and far down her back.

She looked such a child--and yet such a woman, her great eyes anxiously
on his face.

"Johnny," she said softly, "you have been worrying."

He nodded, speechless.

"Why, Johnny?"

"Because--because, Gipsy, I am a fool--a jealous fool, I suppose."

"If you doubt her honour and her honesty, Johnny, then you are a fool,"
she said bravely, "because Joan could not be mean and treacherous and
underhand. It would not be possible for her."

"I thought you did not--like Joan?"

"And does that make any difference? Even if I do not like her, must I be
unjust to her? I know she is fine and honourable and true and straight,
and you must know that too, so--so why should you worry, Johnny? Why
should you worry?"

"Why has she never said one word to me about this man? Why did she
refuse to recognise him that day when she saw you and him together? Why
does she go to Mrs. Bonner's cottage to meet him late at night?"

He hurled at her all those questions that he had been asking himself
vainly.

"I do not know why," Ellice said gravely, "but I know that, whatev