Queenie slowly bowed her head. Mrs. Wedmore and Max, still occupied in
their search for the missing soup tickets, had now extended their
operations to the hall, and left the room in possession of the other
two. Dudley went on with his confession.

"And now something has happened which has cut me off from my old self,
as it were. I don't know how else to express what I mean. I came down
last night with the intention of speaking to--to Doreen for the last
time, of trying to explain myself, if not to--to justify myself to her.
You know what I mean, don't you?"

Again Queenie bowed her head. Her father's suspicions as to Dudley's
perfect sanity had, of course, reached her ears, and she felt so much
pity for the poor fellow whose confession she was then hearing that she
dared not even raise her eyes to his face again. He went on, hurrying
his words, as if anxious to get his confession over:

"But I thought it all over last night, and I decided to say nothing to
her, after all. I don't think I could, without making a fool of myself.
For you know--you know my feelings about her; everybody knows. I had
hoped--Oh, well, you know what I hoped--"

There was a pause. Dudley was afraid of breaking down.

"Oh, Dudley, is it really all over, then, between you? Oh, it is
dreadful! For, you know, she cares, too!"

"Not as I do. I hope and think that is impossible," said Dudley,
hoarsely.