day."

"It just happens that you _think_ you've caught me--you've dropped to
that conclusion. But--do you know anything?"

"Well--well,----"

"You shall. Please sit down again. And feel that you were
justified--that I am really a culprit of some kind--just as you are."

He sat, too astonished to retort--but too curious to take himself away.

"Because I really want to tell you quite a little about myself." There
was a glint of real humor in her eyes. "And first of all, I want to
tell the real truth, and it'll make you feel a lot better--it'll soothe
your vanity."

"You seem to have a rather sudden change in your opinion of me." He
tried to be sarcastic. And he leaned back, folding his arms.

"Oh, no. I've always known that you were vain, and hard. But I didn't
expect perfection."

"Ah."

"But, first, let me tell you--when I left Tottie's just now, I thought
of the river. Suicide--that's what first came to my mind."

"I'm very glad you changed it,"--this with almost a parental note. Her
mention of the river had soothed his vanity!

"Oh, are you?" She laughed merrily.

"And what brought about the--the----"

"Sue Milo."

"Er--who do you say?" He had expected a compliment.

"A woman you don't know--a woman that you must have seen go into
Tottie's just after Barbara left--as you stood sentry."

"Ah, yes." He had the grace to blush again.

"She is the secretary at the Church near by--you know, St. Giles. She
keeps books, and answers telephones, and types sermons, and does all
the letters for the Rector--formerly my husband."

An involuntary start--which he adroitly made the beginning of an assent.

"I've met her only a few times. But I feel as if I'd known her all my
life. Oh, how dear _her_ attitude was!" Sudden tears trembled in her
eyes.

"Different from mine, eh?"

"Absolutely! It was the contrast between you and her that made me see
things as they are--twenty blocks, I walked--and such a change!"

"Fancy!"

"When I was thinking I might as well die, I said, 'If _he_ were in
trouble today, I'd be tender and kind to him. But when I cried out to
him, what I got was no faith--no help--only suspicion.' All my
devotion since I've known you--it counted for nothing the moment you
knew something was wrong. And I was half-crazy with fear just at the
thought of losing you." Her look said that she had no such fear now.

He shifted his feet uneasily.

"Then I said to myself, 'Why,