like a mad fool. I--I said more than
I meant to say. I--I saw you, and I thought of that fellow--and--and
you, and it drove me mad!"

"Why?" She was looking at him with calm eyes of contempt, the same look
that she had given to Hugh Alston at their last meeting.

"Why--why?" he said. "Why?" He clenched his hands. "You know why, you
know I love you! I want you! I'll marry you! I'll dig a hole and bury
the past in it--curse the past! I'll say nothing more, Joan. I swear
before Heaven I'll never try and dig up the past again. I forgive
everything!"

"You--you forgive everything?" Her eyes blazed. "What have you to
forgive? What right have you to tell me that you forgive--me?"

"I can't let you go, I can't! Joan, I tell you I'll never throw the past
in your face. I'll forget Alston and--"

The door behind the girl opened, the maid appeared.

"Miss," she said, "there's a car waiting down below. The man says he is
from General Bartholomew, and he has come for you."

"Thank you. I am coming now. My luggage is ready, Annie. Can you get
someone to carry it down?"

Joan moved to the door. She looked back at Slotman. "I hope," she said
quietly, "that we shall never meet again, Mr. Slotman, and I wish you
good morning!" And then she was gone.

Slotman walked to the window. He looked down and saw a car, by no means
a cheap car, and he knew the value of things, none better. He waited,
unauthorised visitor as he now was, and saw the girl come out, saw the
liveried chauffeur touch his cap to her and hold the door for her, saw
her enter. Presently he saw luggage brought down and placed on the roof
of the limousine, and then the car drove away.

Slotman rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I'll be hanged! And who the
dickens is General Bartholomew? And why should she go to him, luggage
and all? Is it anything to do with that fellow Alston? Has she accepted
his offer after all?" He shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

The General put his two hands on Joan's shoulders. He looked at her, and
then he kissed her.

"You are very welcome, my dear," he said. "I blame myself, I do indeed.
I ought to have found out where you were long ago. Your father was one
of my dearest friends, God rest his soul. I knew him well, and his dear
little wife too--your mother, my child, one of the loveliest women I
ever saw. And you are like her, as like her as a daughter can be like
her mother. Bless my heart, it takes me back when I see you, ta