"Yes, yes," Stella Croyle interrupted. Oh, how dense men could be to be
sure! What in the world did it matter, how or when the secret was told?

"I beg your pardon," said Hillyard. "But really it does matter a little.
You see, it was on our way back, when it was quite dark, so dark that
really you could see little but the line of sky above the trees, and the
flash of the water at the end of the stroke. I doubt if Luttrell would
have ever told me at all, if it hadn't been for just that one fact, that
we were alone together in the darkness and out on the river."

"Yes, I was wrong," said Stella penitently. "I was impatient. I am
sorry."

More and more, just because of this detail, she was ready to believe
that Harry Luttrell had left her for some reason quite outside
themselves, for some other reason than weariness and the swift end of
passion.

"Luttrell's father, his grandfather and many others of his name had
served in the Clayford Regiment. It was his home regiment and the
tradition of the family binding from father to son, was that there
should always be Luttrells amongst its officers."

"And for that reason Harry----" Stella interrupted impetuously.

"No, there is more compulsion than that in Harry's case," Hillyard took
her up. "Much more! The Clayfords _ran_ in the South African War, and
ran badly. They returned to England a disgraced regiment. Now do you see
the compulsion?"