"You know the governess here, don't you?" he said, in a whisper.

"Miss Silvester?"

"Yes. I've got into a little difficulty with Miss Silvester. And there
isn't a living soul I can ask to help me but _you._"

"You know I will help you. What is it?"

"It isn't so easy to say. Never mind--you're no saint either, are
you? You'll keep it a secret, of course? Look here! I've acted like an
infernal fool. I've gone and got the girl into a scrape--"

Arnold drew back, suddenly understanding him.

"Good heavens, Geoffrey! You don't mean--"

"I do! Wait a bit--that's not the worst of it. She has left the house."

"Left the house?"

"Left, for good and all. She can't come back again."

"Why not?"

"Because she's written to her missus. Women (hang 'em!) never do these
things by halves. She's left a letter to say she's privately married,
and gone off to her husband. Her husband is--Me. Not that I'm married to
her yet, you understand. I have only promised to marry her. She has gone