ileless and confiding man. Isn't it?"

"Yes, but I can't tell him."

"It's the straight thing, Kitty."

"I know. But it means giving him up."

"Not at all. He'll respect you all the more for it. He won't go back on
you."

"He wouldn't if he'd only himself to think of."

"He isn't bound to tell his people. That's another thing."

"It isn't his people--it's--it's his children."

Marston became suddenly attentive. "His children? He's got children, has
he?"

"Yes, two; two little girls."

That strengthened his point.

"Then, my dear girl, you can't--in common decency--not tell him. Hang it
all, you've got to give the man a chance."

"A chance to escape? You talk as if I'd set a trap for him."

"My dear child, you haven't sense enough to set a trap. But, since there
are spring-guns in his neighbourhood, I repeat that you ought to inform
him of the fact. I dare say he wouldn't funk a spring-gun on his own
account, but he may not want his children to be hurt."

"I know. He'd be afraid I should contaminate them. I wouldn't, Wilfrid,
I wouldn't. I wouldn't hurt them for the world."

"I'm sure you wouldn't. But he might think you would. The fathers of
little girls sometimes have strange prejudices. You see it's all very
well as long as you can keep him in his beautiful innocence. But, if he
finds out that you've deceived him, he--well, he might resent it."

He never turned his eyes from that livid, vulnerable spot, striking at
it with the sword-thrust of his point.

"A man can forgive many things in a woman, but not that."

"I must risk it. He mayn't find out for years and years. If I tell him I
shall lose him now."

"Not necessarily. Not if he cares for you as much as I should say he
does."

"It doesn't matter how much he cares. He'd never marry me."

"No. He might make another and more sensible arrangement."

"And then?" She faced him with it.

"Then you'll be satisfied. You'll have had your fling."

"And--when--I've--had it?" she said slowly.

"Then, I suppose, I shall have to take you back."

"I see. That's where you think you'll come in."

"I wasn't thinking, at the moment, of myself. The suggestion was thrown
out entirely on your behalf, and I may say his. I'm simply telling you
what--knowing you as I do--I consider the wiser course, for both of
you."

"You don't know. And you don't know him. He wouldn't do it. He isn't
that sort."

She paused, brooding over it.

"Besides, I couldn't