rion," Helen began bravely, "I also want to congratulate you
on something else. You--you--neither of you have told me yet," she
stammered, "but I am such an old friend of both that I will not be kept
out of the secret." At these words Marion's air of triumphant gayety
vanished; she regarded Helen's troubled eyes closely and kindly.

"What secret, Helen?" she asked.

"I came to the door of Philip's room the other day when you did not know
I was there," Helen answered; "and I could not help seeing how matters
were. And I do congratulate you both--and wish you--oh, such happiness!"
Without a word Marion dragged her back down the passage to her
dressing-room, and closed the door.

"Now tell me what you mean," she said.

"I am sorry if I discovered anything you didn't want known yet," said
Helen, "but the door was open. Mr. Wimpole had just left you and had not
shut it, and I could not help seeing."

Marion interrupted her with an eager exclamation of enlightenment.

"Oh, you were there, then," she cried. "And you?" she asked
eagerly--"you thought Phil cared for me--that we are engaged, and it
hurt you; you are sorry? Tell me," she demanded, "are you sorry?"

Helen drew back and stretched out her hand toward the door.

"How can you!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "You have no right."

Marion stood between her and the door.

"I have every right," she said, "to help my friends, and I want to
help you and Philip. And indeed I do hope you ARE sorry. I hope you are
miserable. And I'm glad you saw me kiss him. That was the first and
the last time, and I did it because I was happy and glad for him; and
because I love him too, but not in the least in the way he loves you. No
one ever loved any one as he loves you. And it's time you found it out.
And if I have helped to make you find it out I'm glad, and I don't care
how much I hurt you."

"Marion!" exclaimed Helen, "what does it mean? Do you mean that you are
not engaged; that--"

"Certainly not," Marion answered. "I am going to marry Reggie. It is you
that Philip loves, and I am very sorry for you that you don't love him."

Helen clasped Marion's hands in both of hers.

"But, Marion!" she cried, "I do, oh, I do!"

There was a thick yellow fog the next morning, and with it rain and a
sticky, depressing dampness which crept through the window-panes, and
which neither a fire nor blazing gas-jets could overcome.

Philip stood in front of the fireplace with the morning