vening when she went down as usual to say good night to
him, taking Rose's letter with her. Tom was in his "den," a small
room consecrated to the goddess of disorder books, papers, electric
batteries, crucibles, chemicals, new temperance beverages, and fishing
rods were gathered together in wild confusion. Tom himself was stirring
something in a pipkin over the gas stove when Erica came in.

"An unfallible cure for the drunkard's craving after alcohol," he said,
looking up at her with a smile. "'A thing of my own invention,' to quote
the knight in 'Through the Looking Glass.' Try some?"

"No, thank you," said Erica, recoiling a little from the very
odoriferous contents of the pipkin. "I have had a letter from Rose this
evening."

Tom started visibly.

"What, has Mr. Fane-Smith relented?" he asked.

"Rose had something special to tell me," said Erica, unfolding the
letter.

But Tom just took it from her hands without ceremony, and began to read
it. A dark flush came over his face Erica saw that much, but afterward
would not look at him, feeling that it was hardly fair. Presently he
gave her the letter once more.

"Thank you," he said in a voice so cold and bitter that she could hardly
believe it to be his. "As you probably see, I have been a fool. I shall
know better how to trust a woman in the future."

"Oh, Tom," she cried. "Don't let it--"

He interrupted her.

"I don't wish to talk," he said. "Least of all to one who has adopted
the religion which Miss Fane-Smith has been brought up in a religion
which of necessity debases and degrades its votaries."

Her eyes filled with tears, but she new that Christianity would in this
case be better vindicated by silence than by words however eloquent. She
just kissed him and wished him good night. But as she reached the door,
his heart smote him.

"I don't say it has debased you," he said; "but that that is its natural
tendency. You are better than your creed."

"He meant that by way of consolation," thought Erica to herself as she
went slowly upstairs fighting with her tears.

But of course the consolation had been merely a sharper stab; for to
tell a Christian that he is better than his creed is the one intolerable
thing.

What had been the extent of the understanding with Rose, Erica never
learned, but she feared that it must have been equivalent to a promise
in Tom's eyes, and much more serious than mere flirtation in Rose's,
otherwise the regret in the l