rld--would probably pooh pooh her virtuous indignation; but
Nan had a way of carrying out her resolves whether Sir John pooh-poohed
them or not. And supposing that Nan separated herself from him, Sydney
could not but see that a very serious imputation would be thrown on his
character, even if the true story were not known in all its details.
That mock marriage--which he had not at first supposed that Milly had
taken seriously--had a very ugly sound. And he had made too many enemies
for the thing to be allowed to drop if once it came to the light.

His career was simply at the mercy of two women--the Johnsons were not,
he thought, likely to break silence--and if either of them should prove
to be indiscreet or vindictive, he was a ruined man. He had injured and
insulted his sister: he had shocked and horrified his wife. What Nan
though of him he could not tell. He had always believed that women were
too small-minded to forget an injury, to forgive an insult, or to keep
silence regarding their husbands' transgressions. If Nan once enlisted
Sir John's sympathies on her side, he knew that, although he might
ultimately recover from the blow inflicted by his brother-in-law's
offense and anger, his chance of success in life would be diminished.
And for what a cause? He writhed as he thought of the passing,
contemptuous fancy, for the indulgence of which he might have to
sacrifice so much and had already sacrificed part of what was dearest in
life to him. Yes, he told himself, he was at Nan's mercy, and he had not
hitherto found women very ready to hold their hands when weapons had
been put into them, and all the instincts of outraged vanity made them
strike.

Sydney Campion prided himself on a wide experience of men and women, and
a large acquaintance with human nature. But he did not yet know Nan.

* * * * *

The story which had been so suddenly unfolded to her had struck her to
the earth with the force of a blow, for more than one reason, but
chiefly because she had trusted Sydney so completely. She was not so
ignorant of the ways of men as to believe that their lives were always
free from stain; indeed she knew more than most girls of the weakness
and wickedness of mankind, partly because she was well acquainted with
many Vanebury working-people, who were her tenants, partly because Lady
Pynsent was a woman of the world and did not choose that Nan should go
about with her eyes closed, and pa