ry. Well, there are two reasons. First"--she spoke with slow
and bitter emphasis--"I don't believe for a moment Roger will keep his
word. I know him. He is frightfully ill. He says he's dying. He may
die--before he's got through this money. That would be the best thing
that could happen to me--wouldn't it? But probably he won't die--and
certainly he'll get through the money! Then he'll come back--and I shall
begin bribing him again--and telling lies to hide it from George--and
in the end it'll be no use--for Roger's quite reckless--you can't appeal
to him through anything but money. He'll see George, whatever I do, and
try it on with him. And then--George will know how to deal with _him_, I
dare say--but when we are alone--and he asks _me_--"

She sank down again on the floor, kneeling, and put her hands on Janet's
knees.

"You see, Janet, don't you? You see?"

It was the cry of a soul in anguish.

"You poor, poor thing!"

Janet, trembling from head to foot, bowed her head on Rachel's, and the
two clung together, in silence, broken only by two deep sobs from Rachel.
Then Janet disengaged herself. She was pale, but no longer agitated, and
her blue eyes which were her only beauty were clear and shining.

"You'll let me say just what I feel, Rachel?"

"Of course."

"You can't marry him without telling him. No, no--you couldn't do that!"

Rachel said nothing. She was, sitting on the floor, her eyes turned away
from Janet.

"You couldn't do that, Rachel," Janet resumed, as though she were
urgently thinking her way; "you'd never have a happy moment."

"Oh, yes, of course," said Rachel, throwing up her head with a half
scornful gesture. "One says that--but how do you know? I might never
think of it again--if Roger and that man Dempsey were out of the way.
It's dead--it's _dead_! Why do we trouble about such things!"

"It would be dead," said Janet in a low voice, "if you'd told him--and
he'd forgiven!"

"What has he to do with it?" cried Rachel, stubbornly, "it was before he
knew me. I was a different being."

"No--it is always the same self, which we are making, all the time. Don't
you see--dear, dear Rachel!--it's your chance now to put it all behind
you--just by being true. Oh, I don't want to preach to you--but I see it
so clearly!"

"But it isn't as a man would see it--a man like George," said Rachel,
shaking her head. "Look there"--she pointed to a little bundle of letters
lying on the table--"there ar