was a girl, crying--pretty too; dam pretty--and
everybody knew that when dam pretty girls cried--why, they expected
it....

"Zoe," he cried, surging forward, "why do you stand it? Why do you let
him treat you like that? You're too good for him; I wish that I had
half the trust, the love you give to him. I've done so much for
you--the book and everything--and you're so hard to me."

An automatic thrill came in his voice, he leant a little forward; he
stretched out timid arms towards her, ready to protect. There was no
need to think; it came so easily. He had read the whole scene so
often. The blood throbbed in his veins.

"My God!" he said, unthinking what it meant. They always did.

But Helena quite failed to play her part.

She got up hurriedly as his protective arms swayed over her; she backed
and stared at him. He wasn't serious? She never knew....

Her tears had ceased. She felt a stupid terror. It was all so vulgar.

He dropped his arms slowly, chilled by her stare, and stood with his
mouth ludicrously open.

"Oh!" she said at length, as though realising what the whole past had
meant. "I thought you liked me--and it was only this."

They never had said that at all. He had no answer ready.

"Oh, come," he replied presently, "don't be so serious about it."

She spoke very seriously. "It was _my_ fault," she said. "I ought to
have seen. People told me. I thought you just liked me, and I suppose
I was flattered. If only I had guessed! But I was always such a fool.
You see, I never really had a chance. _You_ taught me all I knew of
art or anything. And that's why it's so terrible." The crisis over,
she sank limply on a chair. She had never thought that anything like
this could happen, ever. She knew it did in those books that she
couldn't finish; but Mr. Alison----! He had been so amusing always;
she had thought him a funny and kind little man. She had not even
thought of any one but Hubert....

"Oh, come, you know," he was saying again. "Don't go on as though
there had been a tragedy! That's the worst of you awfully innocent
women; you always think any one means so much worse than he does. Why
you'd imagine I 'd suggested--well, almost anything; and all I wanted,
just as my reward, was nothing but a kiss!"

Somehow, as he drew to an end of his halting apology, he realised how
great the fall had been. Was this the man who had been almost
throttled by a jealous husband? He fe