man who has been through
hell does not boast of his virility. He is humble and hides it, if,
indeed, it still exists. Only in legend does the sinner come forth
penitent, but terrible, to conquer pure woman by his resistless power.
Henry was anxious to be terrible, but had not got it in him. He was a
good average Englishman, who had slipped. The really culpable point--his
faithlessness to Mrs. Wilcox--never seemed to strike him. She longed to
mention Mrs. Wilcox.

And bit by bit the story was told her. It was a very simple story. Ten
years ago was the time, a garrison town in Cyprus the place. Now and
then he asked her whether she could possibly forgive him, and she
answered, "I have already forgiven you, Henry." She chose her words
carefully, and so saved him from panic. She played the girl, until he
could rebuild his fortress and hide his soul from the world. When the
butler came to clear away, Henry was in a very different mood--asked
the fellow what he was in such a hurry for, complained of the noise last
night in the servants' hall. Margaret looked intently at the butler. He,
as a handsome young man, was faintly attractive to her as a woman--an
attraction so faint as scarcely to be perceptible, yet the skies would
have fallen if she had mentioned it to Henry.

On her return from the George the building operations were complete, and
the old Henry fronted her, competent, cynical, and kind. He had made a
clean breast, had been forgiven, and the great thing now was to forget
his failure, and to send it the way of other unsuccessful investments.
Jacky rejoined Howards End and Dude Street, and the vermilion motor-car,
and the Argentine Hard Dollars, and all the things and people for whom
he had never had much use and had less now. Their memory hampered him.
He could scarcely attend to Margaret, who brought back disquieting news
from the George. Helen and her clients had gone.

"Well, let them go--the man and his wife, I mean, for the more we see of
your sister the better."

"But they have gone separately--Helen very early, the Basts just before
I arrived. They have left no message. They have answered neither of my
notes. I don't like to think what it all means."

"What did you say in the notes?"

"I told you last night."

"Oh--ah--yes! Dear, would you like one turn in the garden?"

Margaret took his arm. The beautiful weather soothed her. But the wheels
of Evie's wedding were still at work, tossing the guests out