ck veil, and when
she looked at him she blushed. He turned his head away. He could not
meet that look in Flossie's eyes when he thought of what he had to say
to her. He was going to put the joy of life a little farther from her;
to delay her woman's tender ineradicable hope.

This was not the moment or the place to do it in. They rose and
walked on, turning into the open Park. And there, sitting under a
solitary tree by the path that goes towards St. John's Wood, he broke
it to her gently.

"Flossie," he said, "I've something to tell you that you mayn't like
to hear."

She made no sign of agitation beyond scraping a worn place in the
grass with the tips of her little shoes. "Well," she said, with an
admirable attempt at patience, "what is it _now_?"

"You mean you think it's been about enough already?"

"If it's really anything unpleasant, for goodness' sake let's have it
out and get it over."

"Right, Flossie. I'm awfully sorry, but I'm afraid we shan't be able
to marry for another two years, perhaps three."

"And why not?" Her black eyes darted a vindictive look at him under
her soft veil.

"My father's death has made a difference to me."

Her lips tightened, and she drew a sharp but inaudible breath through
her nostrils. He had been wrong in supposing that she had not looked
for any improvement in his finances after his father's death. On the
contrary, knowing of their reconciliation and deceived by the imposing
appearance of Rickman's in the Strand, she had counted on a very
substantial increase of income.

"Do you mean to say, Keith, he hasn't left you anything?"

He laughed softly--an unpleasant way he had in situations where most
people would consider it only decent to keep grave.

"He _has_ left me something. A bad debt."

"What have you got to do with his bad debts? Nobody can come down on
you to pay them." She paused. A horrible thought had struck her.
"_Can_ they? You don't mean to say they can?"

He shook his head and struggled with his monstrous mirth.

"Keith! What 'ave you done? You surely haven't been backing any
bills?"

He laughed outright this time, for the sheer misery of the thing.

"No, oh dear me, no. Not in your sense at least."

"There _isn't_ any other sense. Either you did or you didn't; and I
think you might tell me which."

"It's not quite so simple, dear. I didn't back his bills, d'you see,
but I backed _him_.'

"Can they make you responsible? Have they got it dow