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He spoke without anger, but with a sadness that pierced her to the heart; and having so spoken he leant his arm upon the mantelpiece, turning slightly from her.

“I will tell you,” he said, his voice very quiet and even, “exactly what Mrs. Lockyard was hinting at. Ten years ago I was engaged to a girl–like you in many ways–gay, impulsive, bewitching. I was young in those days, romantic, too. I worshipped her as a goddess. I was utterly blind to her failings. They simply didn’t exist for me. She rewarded me by running away with Maurice Brandon. I knew he was a blackguard, but how much of a blackguard I did not realize till later. However, I didn’t trust him even then, and I followed them and insisted that they should be married in my presence. Six months later I heard from her. He had treated her abominably, had finally deserted her, and she was trying to get a divorce. I did my best to help her, and eventually she obtained it.” He paused a moment, then went on with bent head, “I never saw her after she gained her freedom. She went to her people, and very soon after–she died.”

Again he paused, then slowly straightened himself.

“I never cared for any woman after that,” he said, “until I met you. As for Brandon, he kept out of my way, and I had no object in seeking him. In fact, I took no interest in his doings till I found that you were in Mrs. Lockyard’s set. That, I admit, was something of a shock. And then when I found that you liked the man–“

“Oh, don’t!” she broke in. “Don’t! I was mad ever to tolerate him. Let me forget it! Please let me forget it!”

She spoke passionately, and as if her emotion drew him he turned fully round to her.

“If you could have forgotten him sooner,” he said, with a touch of sternness, “you would not find yourself tied now to a man you never loved.”

The effect of his words was utterly unexpected. She started as one stricken, wounded in a vital place, and clasped her hands tightly against her breast, crushing the flowers that drooped there.

“It is a lie!” she cried wildly. “It is a lie!”

“What is a lie?”

He took a step towards her, for she was swaying as she stood; but she flung out her hands, keeping him from her.

Her face was working convulsively. She turned and moved unsteadily away from him, groping out before her as she went. So groping, she reached the door, and blindly sought the handle. But before she found it he spoke in a tone that had subtly altered:

“Doris!”

Her hands fell. She stood suddenly still, listening.

“Come here!” he said.

He crossed the room and reached her.

“Look at me!” he said.

She refused for a little, trembling all over. Then suddenly as he waited she threw back her head and met his eyes. She was sobbing like a child that has been hurt.

He bent towards her, looking closely, closely into her quivering face.

“So,” he said, “it was a lie, was it? But, my own girl, how was I to know? Why on earth didn’t you say so before?”

She broke into a laugh that had in it the sound of tears.

“How could I? You never asked. How could I?”

“Shall I ask you now?” he said.

She stretched up her arms and clasped his neck.

“No,” she whispered back. “Take me–take everything–for granted. It’s the only way, if you want to turn a heartless little flirt like me into–into a virtuous and amiable wife!”

And so, clinging to him, her lips met his in the first kiss that had ever passed between them.