, for any of the passing crowd to
suspect that she belonged to him. He saw that in a moment, and he
waited calmly in the background till Denys and Pattie and the child
had driven away.

He understood it all, if no one else did.

So that was Jane's vengeance! That was what Jane could do!

The sooner he and Jane and the baby were out of Mixham the better!
What was there to stay for? He hated the whole place. Perhaps he might
begin again somewhere else.

He would try, and he would--yes, he would--ask God to help him this
time. Tom said that was the only way to keep straight, to ask for
God's strength.

And Tom and Pattie had made it up that very day, in Jane's own
kitchen!

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE SUN SHINES OUT.

As Reggie opened the gate of St. Olave's and glanced up at the
familiar ivy-encircled windows, he felt as if a dream that he had
often seen before, had come again to him, and that he should only
wake to find himself back in the dull little sitting-room in Scotland,
trying to find an uneasy rest on the horsehair sofa.

Mrs. Brougham was sitting in the bow-window; she always sat there
nowadays, and there was reality enough in her pale, weary face. Almost
the first smile that had lightened it since Maud had disappeared, came
to it when she saw Reggie.

"Oh, Reggie!" she exclaimed.

Reggie came to the open window and leaned on the sill.

"Well, mother," he said, lifting up his face to kiss her. He had
always called her mother and kissed her, since the days when he had
worn knickers and been Gertrude's chum. "Well, mother, aren't you
surprised to see me?"

"Very," she said, "is it your holidays?"

Reggie nodded. "I only heard yesterday about Maud," he said gently.
"There's nothing fresh--no news, I suppose?"

"Nothing," said Mrs. Brougham, hopelessly.

She felt somehow comforted by Reggie's coming. He was so like one of
themselves, so old a friend that there was nothing to explain, no need
for excusing words, no fear that his sympathy would make the sorrow
wake again.

Reggie felt it too. He stood there quite silent for a minute, still
holding her hand; then he said,

"If you knew where Gertrude would be this afternoon, I could go and
meet her. She'll be so surprised to see me."

"Yes," answered Mrs. Brougham mechanically. She knew far, far more
of those stories about Gertrude, than Gertrude ever guessed. Even in
those early summer days of the picnics and tennis parties that had
filled a