"That is the truth. Do you suppose that I would ever have come here
with you otherwise? No matter how desperate my condition was that
would have been impossible. I should have despised myself. Even as it
was I have been thoroughly shamed to have permitted you to think of me
as you must. Now I tell you the truth--I consented to come because I
am Philip Henley's wife."

My surprise at this swift avowal kept me silent, yet I could not
conceal the admiration from revealment in my eyes. She must have read
aright, for she drew back a step, grasping the knob of the door.

"I--I wanted to tell you yesterday--all the way coming down here. I
felt that I could live the deceit no longer. I do not blame you, Mr.
Craig, for you are a man, and you had every reason to believe that you
were doing nothing really wrong. I wanted to learn all I could before
I confessed my identity, and--and I wanted to discover just what you
were like."

"You mean whether I could be trusted?"

"Yes; I--I could not tell at first. We met so strangely, and merely
because I liked you from the beginning was not enough. You understand?"

"Yes, and now?"

She looked at me frankly.

"Now I am simply going to trust you fully. I must; there is no other
way. I thought it all over and over again last night, and determined
to confess everything as soon as we met this morning. I am Viola
Henley, Mr. Craig, and I need you."

CHAPTER XV

THE DECISION

I had had time to think, swiftly to be sure, yet clearly enough.
Surprised as I was by her statement, yet the truth as thus revealed
failed to startle me seriously. Vaguely I had suspicioned the
possibility before, not really believing it could be so, and yet struck
by the similarity in circumstances of the two women. Consequently the
shock of final discovery was somewhat deadened, and I retained the pose
of thought. Moreover, to know her identity was an actual relief.
Before, I had half doubted the righteousness of my cause, at times
almost felt myself a criminal. Now that I could openly associate
myself with Philip Henley's wife, in a struggle to retain for her what
was justly her own, all feeling of doubt vanished, and I became grimly
confident of the final result. Perhaps the relief I felt found
expression in my face, for the woman exclaimed:

"I believe you are actually glad; that it pleases you to know this."

"It certainly does," I replied swiftly, "for now I can work openly,
k