do him any good. And--well, I'm afraid of him."

Pam, in like case, would have faced the whole family, successfully
broken her engagement, protected her own secret, and done her hiding
afterwards, but she was too wise to say so.

"I am sorry for Theo," she remarked presently.

"So am I. And for Tommy, too. Tommy has been staying in Golden Square
ever since Joyselle came home, and he is so happy, poor child. It's--all
hideous. Will you read his letter?"

There was no need for Pam to ask whose letter, as she took it, and felt
Brigit's hot, dry fingers tremble against her own.

"My dear Daughter," she read, "you must come back to us. We
want you. Theo says nothing, but I can see how he misses you, and surely
it is but natural? And _petite mere_ and I want you. Surely you have had
enough of the South? It is unfitted for you, my beautiful one. You are
too strong to like warm air in the winter. Come back and go out into the
fog with me, and let the chill rain dampen your hair. Come back to your
lover who sighs for you, to your old adoring Beau-papa who longs to see
again the face of his beautiful child. "Joyselle."

"Brigit--you must go."

Brigit poked at a clump of moss among the tangled roots of the tree
under which they sat, and sulked.

"You must, dear. And--you must buck up and break the engagement. It
isn't fair," continued Pam, energetically, "to go on stealing their
love."

"I stealing their love!--_I!_ And what has he done to me, pray? Do you
know that I haven't slept more than an hour at a time, for months? Do
you know that I cannot get away from the horrible, haunting thought of
him? That a flower, a book, a snatch of music--anything that reminds me
of him, turns me cold all over and takes my breath away, so that I
simply cannot speak? You are an idiot, an utter fool, to talk that way.
He has ruined my life, and you say I have stolen his love!" She gasped
in very truth as she ceased, and stood with one hand on her heaving
breast, her face white with anger.

"You have, my dear. The man seems really to love you as a father. And
you certainly have no right to that kind of affection from him! You
_must_ break your engagement."

Suddenly, after a long pause, during which she gazed blindly at the
brilliant sea, Brigit sat down, and turning, buried her face in her arms
and burst out crying.

It was nervous, irregular sobbing, cut by moans and muttered words,
broken by the convulsive movement