to be polite to you, Miss Briggerland, and
not to gloat over the fact that you arrived too late to stop this
wedding! And shall I tell you why you arrived too late?" His eyes were
laughing again. "It was because I had arranged with the vicar of St.
Peter's to be here at nine o'clock this morning, well knowing that you
and your little army of spies would discover the hour of the wedding,
and would take care to be here before. And then I secretly sent for an
old Oxford friend of mine to be here at eight--he was here last night."

Still she stood regarding him without visible evidence of the anger
which Lydia thought would have been justified.

"I had no desire to stop the wedding," said the girl, in a low, soft
voice. "If Jim preferred to be married in this way to somebody who does
not know him, I can only accept his choice." She turned to the girl and
held out her hand. "I am very sorry that this tragedy has come to you,
Mrs. Meredith," she said. "May I wish you a greater happiness than any
you have found?"

Lydia was touched by the sincerity, hurt a little by Glover's
uncouthness, and could only warmly grip the little hand that was held
out to her.

"I'm sorry too," she said a little unsteadily. "For you more than
for--anything else."

The girl lowered her eyes and again her lips quivered, and then without
a word she walked out of the room, pulling her sable wrap about her
throat.

It was noon before Rennett's car deposited Lydia Meredith at the door of
her lodging.

She found Mrs. Morgan in a great state of anxiety, and the stout little
woman almost shed tears of joy at the sight of her.

"Oh, miss, you've no idea how worried I've been," she babbled, "and
they've been round here from your newspaper office asking where you are.
I thought you had been run over or something, and the _Daily Megaphone_
have sent to all the hospitals----"

"I have been run over," said Lydia wearily. "My poor mind has been under
the wheels of a dozen motor-buses, and my soul has been in a hundred
collisions."

Mrs. Morgan gaped at her. She had no sense of metaphor.

"It's all right, Mrs. Morgan," laughed her lodger over her shoulder as
she went up the stairs. "I haven't really you know, only I've had a
worrying time--and by the way, my name is Meredith."

Mrs. Morgan collapsed on to a hall chair.

"Meredith, miss?" she said incredulously. "Why I knew your father----"

"I've been married, that's all," said Lydia grimly. "You