epburn?' he asked half desperately,
afraid to tell his mother, and yet feeling that she, and she alone,
might help him.

'I believe so. Yes, Hepburn was certainly the name your aunt mentioned.
Well, what then?'

'Simply that if Gladys has got in tow with this girl, and takes her down
to Bourhill, I'm ruined.'

'How?'

There was eager inquiry, anguish even, in the question. Mrs. Fordyce was
a vain and silly woman, but she had a mother's feelings, and suffered,
as every mother must, over her son's dishonour.

'This girl was one of our hands, and--and--well, you understand, she had
a pretty face, and I was foolish about her. I never meant anything
serious; but, you see, if Gladys gets to know about it, she is so
absurdly quixotic, she is quite fit enough not to speak to me again.'

'You were foolish about her?' repeated Mrs. Fordyce slowly, and her
comely face became rather pale, as she keenly eyed her son's troubled
face. 'Does that mean that you were responsible for her disappearance?'

'Well, I suppose I was in the first instance,' he said frankly. 'Of
course I was a fool for myself, but a man isn't always responsible,
but'--

'Oh, hold your tongue, George Fordyce!' said his mother, her voice sharp
with her angry pain. 'Not responsible, indeed! I am quite ashamed of
you. It is a most disgraceful thing, and I don't know what your father
will say.'

'There is no reason why he should say anything; he needn't be told,'
said George a trifle sullenly. 'Of course I regret it, as every man does
who makes such a deuced fool of himself. And the girl can't complain; it
was more her fault, anyhow.'

'Oh, George, don't be a coward as well as a scoundrel,' said his mother,
with more sharpness in her tone than she had ever before used towards
her idolised son. 'Don't tell me it is the woman's fault. That is the
poor excuse all men make when they get themselves into scrapes. I am
very sorry for her, poor thing, and I think I'll go and see her myself.'

George remained silent, standing gloomily at the window, looking on the
approach, with its trimly-cut shrubs and spring flowers, blooming in
conventional lines. His mother had not received his information quite
as he expected, and he felt for the moment utterly 'down on his luck.'

'You have indeed ruined yourself with Gladys, and with any other girl
who has any respect for herself,' she said presently, with increased
coldness, 'and I must say you richly deserve it.'

So