not fall; there was a short silence, then he laughed--rather
mirthlessly.

"And if I am _not_ the gentleman you so very kindly seem to believe
me," he said constrainedly.

Gladys Leighton came a little closer to him; she laid her hand on his
arm.

"You don't mean that; you're only saying it because--because----" She
broke off with an impatient gesture. "Oh!" she said exasperatedly,
"what is the use of loving a person if you do not want them to be
happy--if you cannot sacrifice yourself a little for them."

Kettering looked at her curiously. He had never taken much notice of
her before; he had thought her a very ordinary type; he was struck by
the sudden energy and passion in her voice.

"She is not happy now, at all events," he said grimly.

She turned away and fidgeted with the wheel of the car.

"She could not very well be more unhappy than she is now," he said
again bitterly.

"She would be more unhappy if she knew she had done something to be
ashamed of--something she had got to hide."

He raised his eyes.

"Are you holding a brief for Challoner?" he asked.

She frowned a little.

"You know I am not; I never thought he was good enough for her. Even
years ago as a boy he was utterly selfish; but--but Christine loved him
then; she thought there was nobody in all the world like him; she
adored him."

He winced. "And now?" he asked shortly.

She did not answer for a moment; she stood looking away from him.

"There was a letter this morning," she said tonelessly. "Jimmy is ill,
and they asked her to go to him."

"Well!"

"She would not go. She told me she was going to Heston with you
instead."

The silence fell again. Kettering's eyes were shining; there was a
sort of shamed triumph about his big person.

Gladys turned to him impatiently.

"Are you looking glad? Oh, I think I should kill you if I saw you
looking glad," she said quickly. "I only told you that so that you
might see how much she is under your influence already; so that you can
save her from herself. . . . She's so little and weak--and now that
she is unhappy, it's just the time when she might do something she
would be sorry for all her life--when she might----"

"What are you two talking about?" Christine demanded from the doorway.
She came down the steps and stood between them; she looked at
Kettering. "I thought you had gone," she said, surprised.

"No; I--Miss Leighton and I have been discussing the higher ethics