make me feel--as if--you are a total stranger!"

His face changed a little, but still she could not read his look.
"Sit down!" he said. "We must have a talk."

She put out her hand to him. The aloofness of his speech cut her
with an anguish intolerable. "What has happened?" she said.
"Quick! Tell me! Don't you want to--marry me?"

He took her hand. She saw that in some fashion he was moved,
though still she could not understand. "I'm trying to tell you,"
he said; "but--to be honest--you've hit me in the wind, and I don't
know how. I think you have forgotten in all these years what Guy
was like."

She gazed at him blankly. Again Jeffcott's words were running in
her mind. And something--something hidden behind them--arose up
like a menace and terrified her.

"I haven't forgotten," she whispered voicelessly. "I couldn't
forget. But go on! Don't--don't mind telling me!"

She was white to the lips. All the blood in her body seemed
concentrated at her heart. It was beating in heavy, sickening
throbs like the labouring of some clogged machinery.

He put his free hand on her shoulder with an abrupt movement that
made him for the moment oddly familiar. "It's a damned shame," he
said, and though his voice was low he spoke with feeling. "Look
here, child! This is no fault of mine. I never thought you could