ll you. And now--if you feel--that you'd rather not
know me, you've only got to say so."

She laughed a little unsteadily.

"Thank you for taking me into your confidence. You shall never regret
it. I'm glad you're going to hold on, and, after all, we're all doing
that more or less."

"It's done me a world of good talking like this. It's what I've been
wanting for months."

She quieted her emotion. Looking out into the stars she knew that she
believed every word that he had said. She thought that she valued Truth
above every other quality; the directness that there was in Truth; its
honesty and clarity. He might not always be honest with her, but she
would never forget that he had, on this night, at least, spoken no
falsehood.

Life--her work, her surroundings, Portland Place, her home--this was
full of falsehood and deceit and muddle.

Here, this evening, at last, was honesty.

They said no more, but sat there silently and listened to the echo of
dance music from some house.

Mrs. Rand, whom their conversation had lured into oblivion of them, was
roused now by their silence.

She looked up. "It's quite splendid," she said, "you must read it,
Lizzie. The part about the Riviera is lovely." Then, slowly remembering,
"Really, Mr. Breton, I'm afraid you must consider me very rude."

He came towards her, assuring her that his evening had been delightful.

Lizzie was happy, happier than she could ever remember to have been
before. She felt her cheeks burn. She leant out of the window to cool
them. She flung back, over her shoulder:

"By the way, Mr. Breton--a piece of gossip. Your cousin is to marry Sir
Roderick Seddon!"

She could not see him. He said nothing. Mrs. Rand said:

"Really, Lizzie! How interesting! How long's that been announced?"

"Oh! it isn't announced. I don't believe that he's even asked her, but
all the house knows it. It's settled. I believe she likes him immensely
and, of course, the Duchess is devoted to him."

Anything would do to talk about. What did it matter? Only that she
should keep on talking so that they should not see how happy she
was--how happy!

He said good night, rather sharply; his voice was constrained as though
he too were keeping in his emotion.

After he had gone Mrs. Rand said, "I don't like him, my dear. I can't
help it--you may laugh at me--but my impressions are always right. He
hardly spoke to me all the evening."

"Why, mother, you were reading. How could