s as good as hers. That's the whole yarn in a nutshell."

Bayfield nodded. He seemed to be thinking deeply, as he filled his pipe
meditatively, and passed the pouch over to Blachland. There was one
thing for which the latter felt profoundly thankful. Remembering the
more than insinuation Hermia had thrown out, he had noticed with
unspeakable relief that there was no reference whatever to Lyn
throughout the communication. Even she had shrunk from such an outrage
as that, and for this he felt almost grateful to her.

"This Mrs Fenham, or St. Clair, or whatever her name is," said
Bayfield, glancing at the subscription of the letter, "seems to be a bad
egg all round. Seems to be omnivorous, by Jove!"

"She has an abnormal capacity for making fools of the blunder-headed
sex, as I can testify," was the answer, given dryly. "Well Bayfield, I
don't want to whitewash myself, let alone trot out the old Adamite
excuse--I don't set up to be better than other people, and have been a
good deal worse than some. You know, as a man of the world, that there
is a certain kind of trap laid throughout our earlier life to catch us
at every turn. Well, I've fallen into a good many such traps, but I
can, with perfect honesty, say I've never set one. Do you follow?"

"Perfectly," replied Bayfield, who thought that such was more than
likely the case. He was mentally passing in review Blachland's
demeanour towards Lyn, during the weeks they had been fellow inmates,
and he pronounced it to be absolutely flawless. The pleasant,
unrestrained, easy friendship between the two had been exactly all it
should be--on the part of the one, all that was sympathetic, courteous
and considerate, with almost a dash of the paternal, for the girl was
nearly young enough to be his daughter--on that of the other, a liking,
utterly open and undisguised, for Lyn liked him exceedingly, and made no
secret of it--and if hers was not a true instinct, whose was? Bayfield
was not a man to adjudge another a blackguard because he had sown some
wild oats, and this one he acquitted entirely--and he said something to
that effect.

"Thanks," was the reply. "I don't care a rap for other people's
opinions about myself, good, bad, or indifferent, as a rule, but I'm
rather glad you don't judge me too hardly, on account of this infernal
_contretemps_?"

"Oh, I don't judge you at all, old chap, so don't run away with that
idea. We ain't any of us silver-gilt saints