er
statements. But Vera doubted neither. She knew the accusation was true;
and when on Jimmy coming in a few moments later and finding her red-eyed
and white-faced, she taxed him with it, he recognised the futility of
denial, though he pleaded extenuating circumstances.

"I was miserable and lonely, and until I met you everything seemed to
have gone to pieces. It will never happen again, darling, really it
won't. You know that, don't you? surely you know it." He was fighting,
not only for her love, but for his whole future, his position in
society, the respect of his own class. If he lost her, he felt he would
lose everything else which a Grierson holds dear. He would never have
the heart to make another try.

"I don't know," she sighed at last. "I had such faith in you, and this
has been such an awful shock. Oh, Jimmy, Jimmy, I could never have
believed it."

Even in his misery, it struck him that she had believed it, very
readily, and a hint of anger came into his bearing. After all, his
promise of reformation, or rather the fact that he had already reformed,
should have some weight with her. But she was judging him by the past,
in which she had had no part. Still, he spoke gently, pleadingly.

"Vera, dear, you must forgive me. It will never happen again now that I
have you to look after me. You will keep me straight."

But he struck the wrong chord, and she looked up almost indignantly.
"You ought to be manly enough to keep straight by yourself, you ought
never to have sunk as you have done. There can be no excuse for it, none
whatever."

"And no forgiveness?" he asked very quietly. She covered her face with
her hands again. "Oh, I don't know, I don't know. Everything seems so
dreadful, and I shall be afraid to trust you. Go away now, and let me
think it over quietly."

"Very well. I will come back after dinner. Meet me down by the
summer-house." There was something masterful in his tone, and for a
moment she felt inclined to obey; then her sense of injury came to her
aid, and she shook her head.

"No, to-morrow morning at the earliest. I cannot decide so quickly."

Jimmy took his hat off the table. "Good-bye, then. I will come
to-morrow morning." And he left the room without another word. As the
door closed behind him, Vera stood up, straightened her hair in front of
the glass on the mantelpiece, dabbed the tears out of her eyes with her
handkerchief, and then went upstairs, holding her head rather erect,