know."

"I know that woman was here. I do not know whether he came here to meet
her."

"Ah well--that I can assure you he did not."

"Still--he must have met her. She was here."

"How do you know that she was here?"

"You saw her yourself, coming out of the hotel. You were horrified, and
you pulled me back so that I shouldn't see her."

"There's nothing in that, nothing whatever."

"If you'd seen your own face, Mr. Hannay, you would have said there was
everything in it."

"My face, dear Mrs. Majendie, does not prove that they met. Or that there
was any reason why they shouldn't meet. It only proves my fear lest Lady
Cayley should stop and speak to you. A thing she wouldn't be very likely
to do if they had met--as you suppose."

"There is nothing that woman wouldn't do."

"She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't do that."

"I don't know."

"No. You don't know. So you're bound to give her the benefit of the
doubt. I advise you to do it. For your own peace of mind's sake. And for
your husband's sake."

"It was for his sake that I asked you for the truth. Because--"

"You wanted me to clear him?"

"Yes. Or to tell me if there is anything I should forgive."

"I can assure you he didn't come here to see Sarah Cayley. As to
forgiveness--you haven't got to forgive him that; and if you only
understood, you'd find that there was precious little you ever had to
forgive."

"If I only understood. You think I don't understand, even yet?"

"I'm sure you don't. You never did."

"I would give everything if I could understand now."

"Yes, if you could. But can you?"

"I've tried very hard. I've prayed to God to make me understand."

Poor Hannay was embarrassed at the name of God. He fell to contemplating
his waistcoat buttons in profound abstraction for a while. Then he spoke.

"Look here, Mrs. Majendie. Poor Walter always said you were much too good
for him. If you'll pardon my saying so, I never believed that until now.
Now, upon my soul, I do believe it. And I believe that's where the
trouble's been all along. There are things about a man that a woman like
you cannot understand. She doesn't try to understand them. She doesn't
want to. She'd die rather than know. So--well--the whole thing's wrapped
up in mystery, and she thinks it's something awful and iniquitous,
something incomprehensible."

"Yes. If she thinks about it at all."

"My dear lady, very often she thinks about it a great deal more than is
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