Verrian's dismay sobbed into it. He let
her cry, as he must, in the distressful silence which he could not be
the first to break. Besides, he did not know how she was taking it all
till she suddenly with threw her handkerchief and pulled down her veil.
Then she spoke three heart-broken words, "How could you!" and he divined
that he must have done wrong.

"What ought I to have done?" he asked, with sullen humility.

"You ought to have taken the victoria."

"How could I?"

"You ought to have done it."

"I think you ought to have done it yourself, Miss Shirley," Verrian
said, feeling like the worm that turns. He added, less resentfully, "We
ought both to have taken it."

"No, Mrs. Westangle might have felt, very properly, that it was
presumptuous in me, whether I came alone in it or with you. Now we shall
arrive together in this thing, and she will be mortified for you and
vexed with me. She will blame me for it, and she will be right, for
it would have been very well for me to drive up in a shabby station
carryall; but an invited guest--"

"No, indeed, she shall not blame you, Miss Shirley. I will make a point
of taking the whole responsibility. I will tell her--"

"Mr. Merriam!" she cried, in anguish. "Will you please do nothing of the
kind? Do you want to make bad worse? Leave the explaining altogether to
me, please. Will you promise that?"

"I will promise that--or anything--if you insist," Verrian sulked.

She instantly relented a little. "You mustn't think me unreasonable. But
I was determined to carry my undertaking through on business principles,
and you have spoiled my chance--I know you meant it kindly or, if
not spoiled, made it more difficult. Don't think me ungrateful. Mr.
Merriam--"

"My name isn't Merriam," he resented, at last, a misnomer which had
annoyed him from the first.

"Oh, I am so glad! Don't tell me what it is!" she said, giving a laugh
which had to go on a little before he recognized the hysterical quality
in it. When she could check it she explained: "Now we are not even
acquainted, and I can thank a stranger for the kindness you have shown
me. I am truly grateful. Will you do me another favor?"

"Yes," Verrian assented; but he thought he had a right to ask, as though
he had not promised, "What is it?"

"Not to speak of me to Mrs. Westangle unless she speaks of me first."

"That's simple. I don't know that I should have any right to speak of
you."

"Oh yes, you would. She w