tone was an offended one. The name of Ilbert seemed to have power to
irritate him. He resented the idea that Ilbert had talked to Mary of
him, disparaged him; he supposed she saw Ilbert often. The idea was
exceedingly distasteful to him.

"He has the highest opinion of your honesty and capacity, your
patriotism too," Mary said.

He did not want Ilbert's commendation; he hated that Mary should quote
his opinions. He lay back in the hansom, staring before him, and his
expression was one of unmixed gloom. Even her neighbourhood had no power
to cheer him, although at first he had had a sensation of delight in her
nearness to him, the perfume as of flowers that hung about her, the soft
folds of her dress which he had touched in the darkness.

They were driving along Sherwood Square now. Across the square itself
Robin could see the lit windows of the General's house. Their time
together was short, he thought; and perhaps the same thought occurred to
Mary, for she touched his sleeve with a gesture of sympathy.

"Will you let me say," she said, "how sorry I am for the pain and
trouble this must be to you?"

"You mean, because Nelly has--has chucked me?"

"Yes; I mean that."

For a moment he looked down in silence. He wondered if he had any right
to tell the truth. Would it not be like a disparagement of Nelly if he
were to confess that he had never loved her? A memory floated into his
mind. It was of Lady Agatha Chenevix and something she had said to him
once at a dinner-party.

"When I must be indiscreet----" she had begun. "Yes?" he had answered
laughingly. "When was your ladyship ever anything but indiscreet? and
who has made indiscretion adorable like you?" Her ladyship had bidden
him hold his tongue with frank camaraderie, and had finished the speech.
"When I am indiscreet, I am indiscreet to Mary. She is like a little
well, into which one drops one's indiscretions and puts the lid on." "A
very clear, transparent, honest well," he had said.

After the momentary pause he lifted his head. The rest of the world
might think him heartbroken if it would; he wanted Mary to know the
truth.

"As a matter of fact, Miss Gray," he said, "Nelly has not broken my
heart. She had always been very dear to me, like a dear little sister.
There was a time when I felt that it would be quite easy to fall in with
my mother's plan and marry Nelly. But I had come to the conclusion that
my feeling for her was not enough for marriage, b