simply crude," she said earnestly. "I was feeling reckless and
I wrote recklessly. I knew she would disapprove and I wrote foolishly.
It was the echo of her own stupid talk. I said that I did not love her
brother but that I had no scruples whatever in marrying him."

She paused, hesitating, then with a shy half-laugh:

"I really believed I was selling myself, Mr Marlow. And I was proud of
it. What I suffered afterwards I couldn't tell you; because I only
discovered my love for my poor Roderick through agonies of rage and
humiliation. I came to suspect him of despising me; but I could not put
it to the test because of my father. Oh! I would not have been too
proud. But I had to spare poor papa's feelings. Roderick was perfect,
but I felt as though I were on the rack and not allowed even to cry out.
Papa's prejudice against Roderick was my greatest grief. It was
distracting. It frightened me. Oh! I have been miserable! That night
when my poor father died suddenly I am certain they had some sort of
discussion, about me. But I did not want to hold out any longer against
my own heart! I could not."

She stopped short, then impulsively:

"Truth will out, Mr Marlow."

"Yes," I said.

She went on musingly.

"Sorrow and happiness were mingled at first like darkness and light.
For months I lived in a dusk of feelings. But it was quiet. It was
warm..."

Again she paused, then going back in her thoughts. "No! There was no
harm in that letter. It was simply foolish. What did I know of life
then? Nothing. But Mrs Fyne ought to have known better. She wrote a
letter to her brother, a little later. Years afterwards Roderick
allowed me to glance at it. I found in it this sentence: `For years I
tried to make a friend of that girl; but I warn you once more that she
has the nature of a heartless adventuress' ... `Adventuress!' repeated
Flora slowly. `So be it. I have had a fine adventure.'"

"It was fine, then," I said interested.

"The finest in the world! Only think! I loved and I was loved,
untroubled, at peace, without remorse, without fear. All the world, all
life were transformed for me. And how much I have seen! How good
people were to me! Roderick was so much liked everywhere. Yes, I have
known kindness and safety. The most familiar things appeared lighted up
with a new light, clothed with a loveliness I had never suspected. The
sea itself! ... You are a sailor. You have lived y