fying still might be vouchsafed to
her, she lingered over her task and coughed in an aggressive fashion at
intervals.

She was still busy when Hartley came downstairs, and, stopping for a
moment at the doorway, stood regarding the captain with a look of timid
disapproval. The latter rose and, with a significant glance in the
direction of Rosa, shook hands and made a remark about the weather.

"When did you return?" inquired Hartley, trying to speak easily.

"Last night," said the other. "I came on here, but you were out."

Hartley nodded, and they sat eying each other uneasily and waiting for
the industrious Rosa to go. The captain got tired first, and throwing
open the French windows slipped out into the garden and motioned to
Hartley to follow.

"Joan wrote to you," he said, abruptly, as soon as they were out of
earshot.

"Yes," said the other, stiffly.

"Understand, it wasn't my fault," said the captain, warmly. "I wash my
hands of it. I told her not to."

"Indeed!" said Hartley, with a faint attempt at sarcasm. "It was no
concern of mine, of course."

The captain turned on him sharply, and for a moment scathing words hung
trembling on his lips. He controlled himself by an effort.

"She wrote to you," he said, slowly, "and instead of waiting to see me,
or communicating with me, you spread the news all over the place."

"Nothing of the kind," said Hartley. "As a matter of fact, it's not a
thing I am anxious to talk about. Up to the present I have only told
Rosa."

"Only!" repeated the choking captain. "Only! Only told Rosa! Where was
the town-crier? What in the name of common-sense did you want to tell
her for?"

"She would have to be told sooner or later," said Hartley, staring at
him, "and it seemed to me better to tell her before Joan came home. I
thought Joan would prefer it; and if you had heard Rosa's comments I
think that you'd agree I was right."

The captain scarcely listened. "Well, it's all over Salthaven by now,"
he said, resignedly.

He seated himself on the bench with his hands hanging loosely between
his knees, and tried to think. In any case he saw himself held up to
ridicule, and he had a strong feeling that to tell the truth now would
precipitate a crisis between Vyner and his chief clerk. The former would
probably make a fairly accurate guess at the circumstances responsible
for the rumour, and act accordingly. He glanced at Hartley standing
awkwardly before him, and, not without