he worst of the thing is that I have no
substitute with me."

"And you can't mend the spring?"

"I'm going to try. But I must keep you waiting--perhaps quite a
while."

"And that is all that is worrying you? Won't you forget I am here?"

"The one thing I cannot do," I answered. I dropped the spring and
stepped to the side of the car. "Margery!" I said. "Margery, don't you
understand? I can't forget."

"But you have forgotten!" she interposed instantly. "You have
forgotten Edith."

"Edith!" I ejaculated, in exasperation. "Edith may go to the devil for
all I care!"

"Mr. Page!" she cried. There was no trace of raillery in her voice. I
had hurt her, and I knew, even in that moment, that for this she would
never forgive me, unless--unless----

I told her the truth. "I am not Mr. Page," I said, bluntly.

She leaned forward and gazed at me in blank amazement. But what she
was able to see of my face must have convinced her that I spoke the
truth. "_Not Mr. Page?_" she echoed, faintly, and shrank from me.

"No," I said; "my name is Winslow. And I am not married to Edith, or
to anyone else. Mr. Stoughton Page, so far as I know, is at home and
has been all evening."

I waited for her to speak, but she sat very still, her hands dropped
in her lap, her head turned from me, and I thought that I knew a
little of what she was thinking, and every second, which passed made
it harder for me to have her think this.

"Let me tell you something," I said at last. "It was a mistake, and it
was all my fault. I did not know who you were when I first saw you. I
only thought of taking you quickly to the club and leaving you there
before you should find out that I was not the person I let you think I
was. But on the way to the club I--I--it seemed to me as if I must
have known you all my life. And then--I saw Mrs. Mason, and she has
been my friend for so long, and--everything helped me. So, when no one
came to take you home, I could not bear to give you up that way and
maybe never see you again. And I did--what I did. And--that is all."

She had not moved while I spoke and her face was denied me. But now
she looked up. The veil hid her eyes; I could only guess at what was
in her mind.

"You let me call you 'Mr. Page'?" she said, after a moment.

"Page is my first name," I answered.

She gave a little gasp. Somehow, I felt that my case was not so nearly
hopeless. "And Mrs. Mason--did she--was she also helping to deceive
me?" s