a sneer and a laugh--

"You are a sly dog, Melland. I had no idea that you were such a devoted
admirer of the redoubtable Mrs Thornton."

The sneer brought Jack to his bearings in a moment. Every trace of
embarrassment disappeared as he faced Victor across the table, wide-eyed
and defiant.

"It is the truth, none the less. I admire Mrs Thornton immensely. She
is a capital little woman, and fights the odds like a Spartan. This
garden-party business was a great event in her life, and she prepared
for it by a series of make-shifts. I got sick of hearing about them.
Poor little soul, why shouldn't she be able to do the thing decently
once in a while? She's been very kind to us; it was little enough to do
in return."

"Oh, well, everything is comparative. You must be pretty flush to send
about hampers of that description. I have never tasted finer fruit. I
am sorry that such generosity is beyond my means," said Victor, whereat
Jack scowled all the more.

"You would have spent as much on your lunches and teas if you had been
in town these last weeks. What is the use of money if you can't be
reckless once in a way? I am sorry that this subject has come up; but,
as it has, I must ask you all to be good enough not to speak of it to
Mrs Thornton. She would gush, and I loathe gush. The secret is my
own, not yours, so you must please respect my wishes."

Once more Ruth came to the rescue.

"Of course, we will keep your secret. We have no right to tell without
your consent," she said decisively.

Her grey eyes smiled at him across the table with a wistful sweetness.
This man, at least, was true and honest. Quick-tempered he might be,
self-willed and impatient, but one could never imagine Jack Melland
playing a double part, nor selling his soul for greed. And yet--and
yet, one glance from Victor's eyes had power to affect her as Jack
Melland's most earnest effort could never do; and Uncle Bernard, sharp-
sighted as he was, treated Jack with far less confidence and favour.

"But I was never sure of him all the time, except for those few hours
yesterday," she thought. "I _felt_ there was something behind. When
Dr Maclure spoke to me that afternoon I knew that he meant all, and
more than all, that he said; but it is not easy to make the imitation
like the real thing. The moment I heard him speak to Margot I knew the
difference--oh, such a difference! I shall never be deceived again."

She sat trifling w