e lamplight did not fall
on his face; but the old man was not looking at him as he resumed his
story.

"She said she was going to town, to beg his publishers for money, and
he, luckily, died believing it. But someone else had seen her; and the
women hunted her out. She fled to London, no money, no friends, and you
can guess what must have happened. Poor child!"

"What happened to the man?" Jimmy asked in a voice which made the doctor
give a grim little nod of approval as he answered:

"I felt that way myself. He abandoned her like a skunk, and his people
threw the blame on her for tempting him. Tempting him! He had a motor
smash soon after, and I tried my utmost to pull him through, because he
would have been a hideously disfigured cripple; but he died, and I never
regretted a patient more."

Jimmy got up abruptly. He knew now who it was who had mentioned that
town to him, and unconsciously sent him to live there. He had not the
slightest doubt in his own mind what the answer would be when he asked:

"What was their name?"

"Penrose," the doctor answered. "She was Lalage Penrose."

CHAPTER XXVI

Jimmy's mind was in a fever as he walked home that night; in fact, he
felt it would be useless to try to sleep, so he went on, past the
cottage, past Drylands, where the lights were all out, right to the next
village, three miles away. But whilst he stalked along he gradually grew
calmer. Things seemed to become simpler, more easy to bear, and to
understand. He saw Lalage now in a different light, and he felt that, as
her character was partially cleared, so, in some subtle way, his own sin
became less, and he need no longer have any compunction about asking
Vera Farlow to be his wife.

True, for one wild moment, his old love for Lalage seemed to surge up
within him; but he was passing Drylands on his way back at the time,
and, as he glanced at the windows, the Grierson strain in him asserted
itself triumphantly. He might pity and forgive Lalage; but his wife must
be one whom he could take anywhere, introduce anywhere; there must be no
horrible fear of the past coming to light again, and, possibly ruining,
not only his own career, but that of his children as well. He thought
of Lalage tenderly, but almost with condescension; and, when he turned
in finally, Vera Farlow--who belonged to the Grierson world--was
uppermost in his mind. Consequently, he slept well and awoke, not to
brood over what Dr. Gregg had told