e her. "Is any one going to claim you right away?
Because if not, I have something I want to say."

"Nobody will claim me. At least I hope nobody will. Grace Clendenning
is telling Porter about the art of woman's dress. She takes clothes so
seriously, you know. And Porter is interested in spite of himself.
And Barry and Leila are on the terrace steps, looking at the moon over
the river, and Aunt Frances and Aunt Isabelle and General Dick are in
the house because of the night air, so there's really no one in the
garden but you and me."

"Just you--and--me----" he said, and stopped.

She was plainly puzzled by his manner. But she waited, her arms
wrapped in her red cloak.

At last he said, "Your brother-in-law and I went to school together."

"Gordon?"

"Yes. St. Martin's. He was younger than I, and we were not much
together. But I knew him. And after he had puzzled over it, he knew
me."

"How interesting."

"And he asked me something about myself, which I have never told you;
which I want to tell you now."

He was finding it hard to tell, with her eyes upon him, bright as stars.

"Your brother said he had heard that I had gone into the Church--that I
had a parish. And what he had heard was true. Until five years ago, I
was rector of a church in the South."

"_You_?" That was all. Just a little breathed note of incredulity.

"Yes. I wanted to tell you before he should have a chance to tell, and
to think that I had kept from you something which you should have been
told. But I am not sure, even now, that it should be told."

"But on Christmas Eve, you said that you did not believe----"

"I do not."

"And was that the reason you gave it up?"

"No. It is a long story. And it is not a pleasant one. Yet it seems
that I must tell it."

The wind had risen and blew a mist from the fountain. The dead leaves
rustled.

Mary shivered.

"Oh, you are cold," Roger said, "and I am keeping you."

"No," she said, mechanically, "I am not cold. I have my cloak. Please
go on."

But he was not to tell his story then, for a shaft of strong light
illumined the roadway, and a big limousine stopped at the foot of the
terrace steps. They heard Delilah Jeliffe's high laugh; then Porter's
voice in the garden. "Mary, are you there?"

"Yes."

"Grace Clendenning and her mother are going, and Delilah and Mr.
Jeliffe have motored out to show you their new car."

There was deep disapproval in his voi