Mr.Parsons got me a good maid who is with me still, and he agreed at last to my taking the name of Howard--I thought if I kept the Arranstoun everyone would know." "But what did you intend to do, darling, with your life.

We were both crazy, of course, you to go--and I to let you." "I had no concrete idea.

Just to see the world and buy what I wanted, and sit up late--and not have to obey any rules, I think--and underneath there was a great excitement all the time in the thought of looking perfectly splendid in being a grand grown-up lady when you came back--for of course I believed then that we must meet again." "Well, what changed all that and made you become engaged to Henry, you wicked little thing!" and Michael kissed her fondly--"Was it because I did not come back ?--but you could have cabled to me at any time." An enchanting confusion crept over Sabine--she hesitated--she began to speak, then stopped and finally buried her face in his coat.
"What is it, darling ?" he asked with almost a tone of anxiety in his voice.

"Did you have some violent flirtation with someone at this stage?
and you think I shall be annoyed--but indeed I shall not, because I do fully realize that whatever you did was my fault for leaving you alone--Tell me, Sabine, you sweet child." "No--it wasn't that----" "Well--then ?" "Well--then I was--terrified--it was my old maid, Simone, who told me what had happened--I was still too ignorant to understand things." "Told you what?
What wretched story did the old woman invent about me ?" Michael's eyes were haughty--that she could listen to stories from a maid! Sabine clasped her hands together--she was deeply moved.
"Oh, Michael--you are stupid! How can I possibly tell you--if you won't understand." Then she jumped up suddenly and swiftly brought her blue-despatch box from beside her writing-table and unlocked it with her bracelet key--while Michael with an anxious, puzzled face watched her intently.
She sat down again beside him when she had found what she sought--the closed blue leather case which she had looked at so many times.
"If you are going to show me some brute's photograph I simply refuse to look," Michael said.

"All that part of your life is over and we are going to begin afresh, darling one, no matter what you did." But she crept nearer to him as she opened the case--and her voice was full and sweet, shy tenderness as she blurted out: "It is not a brute's photograph, Michael, it is the picture of your own little son." "My God!" cried Michael, the sudden violent emotion making him very pale.